THE 

WILLIAM  R.  PERKINS 

LIBRARY 

OF 
DUKE  UNIVERSITY 


Rare  Books 


B  R> 


THE 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 

FROM 

THIS  WORLD 

TO 

THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  COME. 

DELIVERED 

UNDER  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF 

A  DREAM. 

BY  JOHN   BUNYAN. 


HAVE    USED   SIMILITUDES.— HOSEA   IH.    10. 


BRATTLEBOROUGH, YT. 

PUBLISHED   BY  JOHN   HOLBRQOR 

1815. 


fo  .  /c  •— 


THE 

LIFE  OF  JOHN  BUNYAN. 

THE  whole  compass  of  biography  exhibits  not  a 
character  more  interesting  than  that  of  a  man  convert- 
ed from  singular  depravity  of  manners,  to  eminent 
piety  :  and  raised  from  the  deepest  obscurity,  to  be  an 
author  celebrated  for  genius,  and  uncommonly  useful 
to  mankind.  Such  was  the  excellent  writer  oi  the  Pil- 
grim's Progress. 

John  Bunyan  was  born  at  Elstow,  within  a  mile  of 
Bedford,  in  the  year  1628.  His  descent  was,  as  him- 
self expresses  it,  of  a  '  low  and  inconsiderable  genera- 
tion,' his  father  being  an  itinerant  tinker,  and  his  mother 
of  the  like  rank.  They  gave  him  the  best  education 
in  their  power,  which  was  common  reading  and  writing, 
of  which  he  afterwards  made  a  very  excellent  use  ;  but 
for  the  present,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  most  exe- 
crable vices,  particularly  w  cursing,  swearing,  lying, 
and  blaspheming  the  holy  name  of  God." 

During  this  period  he  was  not  without  considerable 
checks  of  conscience.  At  but  nine  or  ten  years  of  age, 
in  the  midst  of  his  sports  and  childish  vanities,  he  was 
often  distressed,  both  by  day  and  night.  For  even  in  his 
sleep  he  wa-o  terrified  with  "  apprehensions  of  devils 
and  wicked  spirits,"  and  "  of  the  fearful  torments  of 
hell-fire,"  insomuch  that  he  sometimes  wished  him- 
self to  be  a  devil  to  torment  others,  that  thereby  (as  he 
ignorantly  hoped)  he  might  escape  being  tormented 
by  them. 

These  terrors  were  but  partial  and  temporary  re- 
straints upon  his  conduct,  and  by  no  means  cured  him 
of  his  delight  in  sin,  or  of  his  aversion  to  true  religion. 
He  mentions  it,  however,  as  a  remarkable  circumstance 
in  his  experience,  that  though  he  delighted  in  his  own 
sins  and  those  of  his  wicked  companions,  *  it  made  his 
heart  ache,'  to  hear  profane  language  from  people  re- 
putedly religious,  and  to  see  the  wicked  actions  of  per- 
sons professing  godliness. 


4  THE   LIFE    OF   JOHN   BUNYAN. 

The  early  part  of  Mr.  Bunyan's  life  was  also  attend- 
ed with  some  hair  breadth  escapes  from  dangerous  ac- 
cidents. At  one  time  he  fell  into  the  river  Ouse  ;  at 
another  into  a  creek  of  the  sea ;  in  a  third  instance  he 
escaped  the  bite  of  an  adder,  and  (after  wounding  it) 
drew  out  its  sting  with  his  fingers;  but  the  most  re- 
markable instance  was  the  following :  while  a  soldier 
in  the  Parliament  army  in  1 645,  he  was  drafted  for  the 
siege  of  Leicester,  but  another,  desiring  to  exchange 
with  him,  took  his  place,  and  was  shot  through  the 
head  with  a  musket-ball,  while  standing  sentinel. 

Soon  after  this  he  married  a  young  woman,  poor  as 
himself;  for  they  had  not,  he  says,  u  so  much  house- 
hold-stuff as  a  spoon  or  dish  between  them."  But  she 
had  been  blessed  with  a  religious  education,  and  brought 
for  her  marriage  portion  two  small  devotional  tracts, 
il  The  Plain  Man's  Pathway  to  Heaven,"  and  M  The 
Practice  of  Piety."  These  books  Bunyan  repeatedly 
read  ;  and  though  they  were  not  the  means  of  his  con- 
version, they  had  such  an  effect  on  him,  that  he  was 
willing  to  "  do  many  things,"  and  give  up  some  of  his 
outward  vices. 

At  this  period  he  received  a  considerable  check  of 
conscience  under  one  of  the  sermons  he  heard  at  church 
on  sabbath-breaking,  to  which  he  was  much  addicted  ; 
but  this  conviction  he  shook  out  of  his  mind,  and  the 
same  afternoon  returned  to  his  usual  Sunday  sports, 
when  the  following  incident  happened,  which  shall  be 
related  in  his  own  words  : 

"  The  same  day,  as  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  game  of 
cat,  and  having  struck  it  one  blow  from  the  hole,  just 
as  I  was  about  to  strike  the  second  time,  a  voice  did 
suddenly  dart  from  heaven  into  my  soul,  which  said, 
u  Wilt  thou  leave  thy  sins  and  go  to  heaven,  or  have 
thy  sins  and  go  to  hell  ?"  u  At  this  I  was  put  to  an  ex- 
ceeding amaze  ;  wherefore,  leaving  my  cat  upon  the 
ground,  I  looked  up  to  heaven,  and  was  as  if  I  had 
Tjith  the  eyes  of  my  understanding,  seen  the  Lord 
Jesus  looking  down  upon  me,  as  being  very  hotly  dis- 
pleased with  me,  and  as  if  he  did  severely  threaten  me 
with  some  grievous  punishment  for  these  and  other 
ungodly  practices." 


THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN   BIJNYAff.  ^ 

"  I  had  no  sooner  thus  conceived  in  my  mind,  but 
suddenly  this  conclusion  was  fastened  on  my  spirit, 
that  I  had  been  a  great  and  giievous  sinner,  and  that  it 
was  now  too  late  forme  to  look  after  heaven.  Then  I 
felt  my  heart  sink  in  despair,  and  therefore  I  resolved 
to  ,9;o  on  in  sin  :  For,  thought  I,  if  the  case  be  thus,  my 
state  is  surely  miserable^  miserable  if  I  leave  my  sins, 
and  but  miserable  if  I  follow  them.  I  can  but  be  dam- 
ned ;  and  if  I  must  be  so,  i  had  as  good  be  damned  for 
many  as  for  few. 

*'  Thus  I  stood  in  the  midst  of  my  play  before  all 
that  then  were  present  :  yet  I  told  them  nothing  ;  but 
having  made  thi :  conclusion  I  returned  desperately  to 
my  sport  again  :  and  I  well  remember,  that  presently 
this  kind  of  despair  did  so  possess  my  soul,  that  I  was 
persuaded  I  could*never  attain  to  other  comfort  than 
what  I  should  get  in  sin  :  wherefore  I  found  within 
me  a  great  desire  to  take  my  fill  of  sin  ;  still  studying 
what  sin  was  yet  to  be  committed,  that  I  might  taste 
the  sweetness  of  it,  lest  I  should  die  before  I  had  my 
desires.  In  these  things  I  protest  before  God,  I  lie 
not ;  these  were  really,  strongly,  and  with  all  my 
heart  my  desires.  The  good  Lord,  whose  mercy  is 
unsearchable,  forgive  me  my  transgressions  V 

Thus  Bunyan  <vent  on  sinning  greedily  for  about  a 
month  or  more,  till  one  day,  as  he  was  standing  at  a 
neighbor's  shop  window,  and  "  there  cursing  and 
swearing,  and  playing  the  madman"  (as  he  expresses 
it)  after  his  usual  manner,  the  woman  of  the  house, 
though  a  loose  aud  irreligious  person,  reproved  him 
very  severely,  protesting,  he  was  "  the  ungodliest  fel- 
low forswearing*'  she  had  ever  heard,  and  enough  to 
spoil  all  the  youth  in  the  whole  town. 

This  reproof  coming  from  such  a  woman  silenced 
and  shamed  him ;  nay  more,  it  even  cured  him  of  that 
detestable  vice  ;  and  his  remark  on  this  circumstance 
is  well  worthy  the  attention  Of  profane  and  customary 
swearers  :•  **  How  it  came  to  pass  (says  he)  I  know 

*  Similar  to  this  was  u  remarkable  circumstance   in  the  life 

of  Mr.  Perkins,  an  able  minister  of  the  gospel.     \V  hile  a  yotmg 

man  and  a  scholar  at  Cambridge,  he  was  devoted  to -drunken. 

J.ess,     As  he  was  walking  in  the  skirts  of  the  town,  he  heard  a 

*  A  2 


O  THE    LIFE    OF   JOHN    BUtfTAS. 

not,  I  did  from  this  time  forward  so  leave  my  swearing, 
that  it  was  a  great  wonder  to  myself  to  observe  it ;  and 
whereas  before  I  knew  not  how  to  speak  unless  I  pot 
an  oath  before  and  another  behind,  to  make  my  words 
have  authority,  now  I  could,  without  it,  speak  better 
and  with  more  pleasantness  than  ever  I  could  before." 
Soon  after  this  he  fell  into  company  with  a  poor  reli- 
gious man  that  spake  pleasantly  oi  religion,  and  of  the 
scriptures  ;  which  so  delighted  Bunyan,  that  he  betook 
himself  to  his  Bible,  and  found  great  pleasure  in  read- 
ing the  historical  and  more  interesting  parts  of  it.  This 
carried  reformation  one  step  farther.  He  became  now 
conscientiously  moral ;  his  acquaintance  reckoned  him 
very  godly  and  religious  ;  and  himself  thought  that  he 
M  pleased  God  as  well  as  any  man  in  England." 

Bunyan's  two  favorite  amusements  were  singing  and 
dancing ;  these  now  appeared  inconsistent  with  the 
character  he  had  assumed,  and  therefore  must  be  re- 
linquished, though  reluctantly  and  by  degrees  :  they 
were  like  the  extinction  of  a  right  eye,  or  the  excision 
of  a  right  hand. 

All  this  time,  however,  he  was  building  upon  a 
wrong  foundation :  being  "  ignorant  of  God's  right- 
eousness," he  went  about  to  establish  his  own  ;  and 
had  no  suspicion  that  he  was  in  an  error,  till  one  day  he 
overheard  three  or  four  poor  women  in  Bedford  dis- 
coursing on  religious  subjects.  He  was  much  surpri- 
sed to  hear  them  talk  of  conviction,  the  new  birth,  the 
sweetness  of  the  promises,  and  the  power  of  tempta- 
tion ;  of  the  depravity  of  their  own  hearts,  and  of  their 
unbelief ;  and  to  hear  them  bitterly  contemn  "  their 
own  righteousness  as  filthy,  and  insufficient  to  do  them 
any  good."  They  also  spake  (as  he  expresses  it) 
with  such  pleasantness  of  scripture  language,  and  with 
such  appearance  of  grace  in  all  they  said,  that  they 
were  to  him  as  if  they  had  found  a  new  world  ;  as  if 

woman  say  to  a  child  that  was  froward  and  peevish,  "  Hold 
your  tongue,  or  I  will  give  you  to  drunken  Perkins  yonder." 
Finding  himself  become  a  by- word  among  the  people,  his  con- 
science was  deeply  impressed,  and  it  was  the  first  step  towards 
his  conversion. 


THE     LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUNVAN.  7 

they  were  "  popple  that  dwelt  alone,  and  not  reckoned 
among  the  natio^."* 

These  topics  w*re  not  only  new  to  him,  but  in  a 
great  measure  uninte  legible;  and  he  was  led  first  to  sus- 
pect, and  afterwards  to  condemn  himself,  as  a  vain 
Dabbler  and  a  hypocrite  ;  as  wanting  the  tt  true  tokens 
of  a  godly  man,'*  and  as  a  stranger  to  those  pleasures 
which  he  found  these  good  people  had  experienced. 
This  conviction  induced  him  to  seek  repeated  oppor- 
tunities of  their  company,  and  the  more  he  enjoyed  of 
their  conversation,  the  more  earnestly  he  desired  it. 
The  various  brandies  of  Christian  experience,  and  the 
important  truths  of  scripture,  now  engaged  his  whole 
attention,  and  he  found  it  as  difficult  then  to  bring  his 
mind  from  heaven  to  earth,  as  at  some  other  times,  to 
elevate  his  mind  from  earth  to  heaven. 

Before  his  conversion,  Bunyan  had  formed  a  strong 
attachment  to  a  young  man  of  very  loose  morals, 
whose  acquaintance  he  now  found  it  necessary  to  drop  ; 
but  meeting  with  him  a  few  months  afterwards,  and 
asking  him  how  he  did,  the  other  replied  in  his  usually 
Wild  and  prufane  language.  "  But,  Harry,  (said  Bun- 
yan) why  do  you  swear  and  curse  thus  ?"  The  other 
replied  in  a  great  rage — "  What  would  the  devil  do 
for  company,  if  it  were  not  for  such  as  I  am  ?" 

About  this  time,  Mr.  Bunyan  met  with  some  books 
written  by  the  ranters  of  that  age ;  who  were  a  set  of 
practical  as  well  as  theoretical,  antinomians.  Their 
leading  maxims  seem  to  have  been  (when  fairly  ex- 
pressed), those  diabolical  ones  mentioned  by  St.  Paul. 
— "  Let  us  do  evil  that  good  may  come  ; — let  us  sin, 
that  grace  may  abound." 

About  this  time  he  began  to  read  the  scripture,  <  with 
new  eyes,'  and  as  he  had  never  done  before  ;  especially 
St.  Paul's  epistles,  which  were  now  very  delightful, 
though  formerly  they  had  much  offended  and  disgust- 
ed him.  In  short,  the  Bible  became  his  constant  com- 
panion, and  he  was  (as  he  says)  '  never  out  of  it,  ei- 
ther by  reading  or  meditation  ;'  constantly  crying  to 
God,  that*  he  might  know  the  truth  and  follow  it. 

*  Nun.  xxi.i-  9. 


8  TfciL    LI  Ft    OF    JOILY    LtS\AS. 

A  fresh  difficulty  however  occurred.  Reading  in 
the  New  Testament  of  the  various  extraordinary  gifts 
of  the  Spirit,  wisdom,  knowledge,  faith,  Sec.  he  was 
particularly  stumbled  at  the  latter,  and,  misunderstan- 
ding of  some  of  our  Lord's  worrfs  on  that  subject,*  he 
was  tempted  to  try  to  work  a  miracle  to  prove  his 
faith.  One  day,  in  particular,  walking  between  Elstow 
and  Bedford,  it  was  strongly  suggested  to  him  to  bid 
the  puddle  *  be  dry,'  and  to  say  to  the  dry  places,  l  Be 
you  puddles.'  But  just  as  he  was  about  to  speak,  the 
thought  came  into  his  mind,  to  go  under  the  hedge  to 
pray  that  God  would  enable  him.  On  the  other  hand 
it  occurred  to  him,  that  if  he  tried  and  could  not  effect 
it,  it  would  discourage  and  sink  him  into  deep  despair. 
For  this  reason  he  prudently  declined  it. 

While  his  mind  was  thus  agitated  between  hope  and 
fear,  he  had  what  he  calls  *  a  kind  of  vision,'  respect- 
ing the  good  people  of  Bedford,  which  is  thus  related 
in  his  own  words:  *  I  saw,  as  if  they  were  on  the  sun- 
ny side  of  some  high  mountain,  there  refreshing  them- 
selves with  the  pleasant  beams  of  the  sun,  while  I  was 
shivering  and  shrinking  in  the  cold,  afflicted  with  frost, 
snow,  and  dark  clouds:  methought  also,  betwixt  me 
and  them,  I  saw  a  wall  that  did  compass  about  this 
mountain  ;  now  through  this  wall  my  soul  did  greatly 
desire  to  pass,  concluding,  that,  if  I  could,  I  would  e- 
ven  go  in  the  very  midst  of  them,  and  there  also  com- 
fort myself  with  the  heat  of  their  sun. 

*  About  this  wall  I  thought  myself  to  go  again  and 
again,  still  prying  as  I  went,  to  see  if  I  could  find  some 
way  or  a  passage,  by  which  I  might  enter  therein  :  but 
none  could  I  find  for  some  time.  At  the  last  I  saw, 
as  it  were,  a  narrow  gap^like  a  little  door-way  in  the 
wall  through  which  I  attempted  to  pass  :  now  the  pas- 
sage being  very  strait  and  narrow,  I  made  many  efforts 
to  get  in,  but  all  in  vain.  At  last,  with  great  striving, 
methought  I  at  first  did  get  in  my  head,  and  after  that 
by  a  sideling  striving,  my  shoulders,  and  after  that  my 
•whole  body.  Then  was  I  exceeding  glad,  went  and 
sat  down  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  so  was  comforted 
with  the  light  and  heat  of  their  sun. 

«  Matt.  xvii.  20. 


THE    LIFE    OF   JOHN    BtTNYAX.  9 

Now  this  mountain  and  wall,  &c.  was  made  thus  out 
to  me  :  the  mountain  signified  the  church  of  the  living 
God  ;  the  sun  that  shone  thereon,  the  comfortable  shi- 
ning of  his  merciful  face  on  them  that  were  therein  ; 
the  wall  I  thought  was  the  world,  that  did  make  sepa- 
ration between  the  Christians  and  the  world ;  and  the 
gap  which  was  in  the  wall  1  thought  was  Jesus  Christ 
who  is  the  way  to  God  the  Father.*  But  forasmuch  the 
passage  was  wonderful  narrow,  even  so  narrow  that 
I  could  not  but  with  great  difficulty,  enter  thereat,  it 
showed  me  none  could  enter  into  life,  but  those  that 
were  in  downright  earnest.' 

This  vision,  whatever  it  was,  abode  much  upon  his 
mind,  gave  him  an  ardent  desire  to  enjoy  the  sunshine 
of  the  divine  presence,  and  excited  him  to  cry  mightily 
to  God  for  it. 

A  variety  of  temptations  succeeded  these  ;  but  with 
every  temptation  the  Lord  made  a  way  for  his  escape. 
At  length  he  began  to  break  his  mind  to  the  good  peo- 
ple of  B(  dford,and  they  introduced  him  to  their  minister, 
Mr.  GhTord,  who  invited  him  to  mingle  with  those  seri- 
ous persons  that  frequented  his  house  ;  and  to  listen  to 
the  experience  of  others,  in  order  to  enlarge  his  own. 

He  now  acquired  a  deeper  acquaintance  with  the  hu- 
man heart,  its  inward  corruptions  i»nd  unbelief :  evils 
which  he  felt  so  strongly  working  in  himself,  that  he 
thought  it  impossible  he  should  be  already  converted, 
and  had  little  hopes  that  he  ever  should.  His  spiritual 
conflicts,  therefore,  increased  rather  than  diminished, 
insomuch  that  he  compares- himself  to  the  possessed 
child;  brought  by  his  parent  to  Jesus  Christ,  who,~ 
while  he  was  yet  coming  to  him,  was  thrown  down  by 
the  devil,  and  cruelly  torn  by  him.f 

Bunyan  observes  here,  as  a  sign  that  his  convictions 
were  of  the  right  sort,  that  they  made  him  very  con- 
scientious ;  so  much  so,  as  to  tremble  at  the  yerge  of 
duty,  and  shudder  at  the  approach  of  sin.  He  now  be- 
came (as  is  often  the  case  with  converts)  so  scrupulous, 
that  he  who  once  never  spake  without  an  oath,  was  a- 
fraid  to  speak  at  all  lest  he  should  speak  idly,  or  mis- 
place his  words. 

#  John  xiv,  6.     Matt.  yii.  14.  t  *'a*:e  ix-  *~ 


10  THE    LIFE    OP    JOHN    BUNV 

He  was  not,  however,  so  entirely  taken  up  with  his 
own  feeling,  as  totally  to  neglect  observation  upon 
those  around  him.  The  following  remarks,  as  they 
cannot  easily  be  better  expressed,  shall  be  given  in  his 
own  words  : 

"  While  I  was  thus  afflicted  with  the  fears  of  my  own 
damnation,  there  were  two  things  would  make  rne  won- 
der :  the  one  was,  when  I  saw  old  people  hunting  after 
the  things  of  this  life,  as  if  they  should  live  here  al- 
ways :  the  other  was,  when  I  found  professors  much 
distressed  and  cast  down,  when  they  met  with  outward 
losses  ;  as  of  husband,  wife,  child,  &c.  Lord,  thought  I, 
what  ado  is  here  about  such  little  things  as  these  ?  What 
seeking  after  carnal  things  by  some,  and  what  grief  in 
others  for  the  loss  of  them  !  If  they  so  much  labor  af- 
ter, and  shed  so  many  tears  for  the  things  of  this  pre- 
sent life,  how  am  I  to  be  bemoaned,  pitied,  and  prayed 
for  !  My  soul  is  dying,  my  soul  is  damning.  Were  my 
soul  but  in  a  good  condition,  and  were  I  but  sure  of  it, 
ah  !  how  rich  would  I  esteem  myself,  though  blessed 
with  bread  and  water  !  I  should  count  tho^e  but  small 
afflictions,  and  should  bear  them  as  little  burthens. 
"  A  wounded  spirit  who  can  bear  ?" 

Painful  as  he  felt  his  convictions,  yet  he  was  at  times 
fearful  of  their  dying  away,  or  being  removed  by  im- 
proper means  ;  because  he  had  observed  persons  in 
similar  distress,  who,  when  their  troubles  wore  away, 
or  were  improperly  removed,  became  more  carnal,  and 
more  hardened  in  wickedness,  than  before.  That  scrip- 
ture lay  much  upon  his  mind,  M  Without  shedding  of 
blood  there  is  no  remission  j'^and  he  was  led  to  cry 
earnestly  to  the  Lord,  that  he  might  be  delivered  from 
*  an  evil  conscience,'  only  by  the  sprinkling  of  atoning 
blood. 

At  length  the  time  of  his  deliverance  approached, 
and  he  received  his  first  consolation  through  a  sermon 
on  those  words  of  Solomon,  "  Behold,  thou  art  fair,  my 
love."t  This  reached  Bunyan's  case,  afforded  him 
'  strong  consolation,'  and  gave  him  a  happy  interval  of 
joy  and  triumph  in  the  Lord  :  but  his  triumph  was  of 

*Heb.  ix.  22.  \  Cant.  iv.  1. 


THE  ^>1FE    OF    JOHN    BUNFAN.  11 

ahofrt  duration  :  the  enemy  returned  to  the  charge  with 
double  force,  re-attacked  him  with  increased  malice, 
and  he  was  now  tempted  to  question  the  first  principle 
and  ground-work  of  all  religion,  the  very  being  of  a  God. 
Or,  admitting  this,  said  the  spirit  of  infidelity,  "  How 
can  you  tell  but  the  Turks  have  as  good  scriptures,  to 
prove  their  Mahomet  to  be  the  Saviour,  as  we  have  to 
prove  our  Jesus  ?  Every  one  thinks  his  own  religion 
right,  Jews,  Moors,  and  Pagans  !  and  what  if  all  our 
faith,  and  Christ,  and  scriptures  should  be  no  more  !" 

These  sceptical  suggestions  were  accompanied  with 
strong  temptations  to  immorality  and  profaneness-— 
even  to  curse  God,  and  to  blaspheme  his  Son.  For 
infidelity  and  profaneness  are  of  near  neighborhood, 
and  the  arch  enemy  of  mankind  knows  how  to  acceler- 
ate the  course  of  sinners  from  one  unto  the  other. 

Sometimes  he  attempted  to  reason  with  his  tempta- 
tions, but  under  great  disadvantages,  for  want  of  his  be- 
ing acquainted  with  the  external  evidences  of  Christiani- 
ty^ The  principal  check  his  doubts  received  was  from  an 
■fcmal  principle,  which  rejected  and  disrelished  them, 
flftength  it  pleased  God,  however,  to  permit  him  for  a 
timl  to  sink  into  despondency ;  and,  at  intervals,  he 
feared  that  his  senses  would  have  left  him  ;  at  other 
times  he  thought  himself  possessed  by  the  devil. 

But  the  sorest  trial  of  this  period  of  his  life,  was  a 
temptation  to  commit  the  unpardonable  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  this  he  was  prompted  even  to  covet  the 
opportunity  of  committing,  though  the  new  principle 
within  him  so  revolted  at  the  suggestion,  that  he  forci- 
bly closed  his  mouth  with  his  hands,  lest  the  fatal  blas- 
phemy should  escape  him. 

This  temptation  lasted  about  a  year,  and  was  attend- 
ed, one  while,  with  peculiar  insensibility,  and  atother 
times  with  such  distractions  in  duty,  as  frustrated  his 
attempts  to  pray  ;  and  so  much  was  his  mind  convul- 
sed by  it,  that  sometimes  he  thought  he  even  felt  one 
bekind  him  pulling  his  clothes,  to  stop  him  when  he 
began  to  pray. 

It  is  unnecessary,  and  might  appear  tedious,  to  relate 
all  the  temptations  with  which  this  good  man  was  agi- 
tated during  this  period  5  it  is,  howiver,  proper  to  ob- 


12  THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUNYAN. 

serve,  that  they  were  not  without  some  allays  of  com- 
fort ;  his  cup  was  bitter,  but  mixed  with  some  pleasant 
ingredients;  or,  to  speak  without  a  figure,  he  had  in- 
tervals of  consolation  ;  many  precious  promises  were 
applied,  and  he  was  at  sometimes  as  much  elevated 
with  joy,  as  he  was  at  others  depressed  with  grief. 

It  is  also  worthy  of  observation,  that  during  this  time 
he  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  sitting  under  the  ministry 
of  good  Mr.  Gifford  (^an  ancestor  of  the  late  learned  Dr. 
Gifford),  an  evangelical  and  useful  minister  at  Bedford ; 
whose  advice  appears  to  be  very  judicious  and  saluta- 
ry. *  He  would  bid  us  take  special  heed  (says  Bun  van) 
that  we  took  not  up  any  truth  upon  trust ;  as  from  this 
or  that  man  ;  but  pray  to  God  that  he  would  convince 
us  of  the  reality  thereof  by  his  Spirit  in  the  word  ;  for 
(said  he)  otherwise,  when  temptations  come,  not  having 
received  them  with  evidence  from  heaven,  you  will 
find  the  want  of  that  help  and  strength  to  resist,  which 
once  you  thought  you  had/  This  advice  was  very 
seasonable  to  Bunyan,  who  betook  himself  to  the  scrip- 
tures, and  to  prayer  ;  and  there  found,  as  every  simple 
honest  inquirer  doubtless  will,  all  the  satisfaction 
which  he  desired.  He  remarks  also,  that  the  sense  he 
tiad  of  the  evil  of  sin,  was  of  use  to  keep  him  steady  in 
the  truth,  by  discovering  his  absolute  need  of  a  Sa- 
viour, and  exactly  such  a  Saviour  as  the  New  Testa- 
ment reveals. 

About  this  time  he  met  with  Martin  Luther  upon  the 
Galatians,  and  was  much  struck  with  the  similarity  ot 
his  experience  with  that  of  the  good  old  reformers ; 
and  to  find  him  describe  so  nearly  the  various  tempta- 
tions and  conflicts  which  he  had  felt.  He  also  received 
from  this  book  considerable  light  into  the  gospel 
scheme  of  redemption,  and  esteemed  it,  next  to  the  Bi- 
ble, the  most  valuable  book  he  had  ever  met  with. 

Now  again  he  began  to  rejoice  and  triumph  :  now 
he  began  to  sing  with  the  psalmist,  '  My  mountain 
stands  strong  ;  I  shall  never  be  removed.'*  He  found 
however,  this  was  but  a  short  truce  in  his  warfare  ; 
and  that  these  comforts  were  only  to  support  and 
strengthen  him  for  future  conflicts. 

*  Psal.  mx.  e,  r. 


THE     LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUNYAN.  13 

The  next  trial  which  beset  him  was  a  truly  diaboli- 
cal one — it  was  to  sell  Christ, to  exchange  him  *  for  the 
things  of  this  life,  for  any  thing/  And  those  words, 
*  Sell  him,  sell  him*,  would  be  impressed  upon  his 
thoughts  an  hundred  times  running,  for  hours  togeth- 
er, and  that  during  a  succession  of  many  weeks.  It 
may  well  be  supposed  he  prayed  and  strove  against 
this  temptation  ;  at  last  he  found  nothing  so  much  re- 
lieved him  as  answering  the  enemy  in  his  own  way,  as 
last  as  his  temptations  were  repeated — 'I  will  not,  I 
will  not,  I  will  not,  no,  not  for  thousands,  thousands, 
thousands  of  worlds  I*  At  length,  after  much  striving, 
he  felt  the  thought  pass  through  his  heart,  as  he  expres- 
ses it — '  Let  him  go  if  he  will :'  and  he  imagined  also 
that  for  the  moment,  it  had  his  free  consent.  '  Now 
(says  our  author)  was  the  battle  won ;  and  down  fell  I, 
as  a  bird  that  is  shot  from  the  top  of  a  tree,  into  great 
guilt  and  fearful  despair.'  And  this  continued  until  he 
was  at  length  relieved  with  that  comfortable  word, 
4  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin.'* 

During  the  above  period  the  tempter  assaulted  him 
in  a  manner  that  some  persons  have  jested  with,  though 
it  was  no  jest  to  Bunyan.  In  short,  he  tells  us,  his  en- 
emy would  not  let  him  eat  his  food  in  quiet :  bui '  for- 
sooth (says  he)  when  I  was  set  at  my  table  at  any  meat, 
I  must  go  hence  to  pray  ;  I  must  leave  my  food  now, 
and  just  now  ;  so  counterfeit  holy  would  this  devil  be ! 
When  I  was  thus  tempted,  I  would  say  in  myself, 
'*  Now  I  am  at  my  meat,  let  me  make  an  end." — "  (No 
said  he)  you  must  do  it  now,  or  you  will  displease  God, 
and  despise  Christ."  And  when  he  omitted  to  obey 
this  temptation,  his  conscience  smote  him  as  if  he  had 
refused  to  leave  his  meat  for  God. 

We  have  already  mentioned  the  consolation  he  re- 
ceived from  a  sense  of  the  efficacy  of  atoning  blood  ; 
on  this  occasion  it  seemed  to  him  '  as  if  the  tempter 
did  leery  and  steal  away  from  him,  as  ashamed  of  what 
he  had  done  :'  but  this  modest  fit  of  the  devil  was  of 
short  duration  ;  he  soon  recollected  his  usual  effronte- 
ry, and  returned  with  a  more  serious  and  alarming 

•  John  i.  7. 
B 


14  THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUNYAN. 

temptation.  In  short,  he  now  tempted  him  to  believe 
(hat  he  had  committed  that  unpardonable  sin,  the  ski 
against  the  Holy  Ghost  ;*  and  that  his  case  was  like 
Esau's,  after  he  had  sold  his  birth-right,  *  when  he 
would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  was  rejected ;  for 
he  found  no  place  for  repentance,  *  though  he  sought 
it  carefully  with  tears."! 

These  passages  have  given  so  much  pain  and  unea- 
siness to  others  beside  Bunyan,  that  it  may  not  be  an 
unprofitable  digression,  to  bestow  a  short  explanation 
on  them,  in  hopes  it  may  be  of  use  to  such  as  may  in 
future  be  attacked  with  the  like  temptations. 

Divines  seem  now  pretty  well  agreed,  that  an  enligh- 
tened understanding  and  a  malicious  heart,  must  meet 
in  the  same  person,  to  constitute  a  capacity  of  commit- 
ting the  unpardonable  sin.  Thus  it  has  been  supposed, 
that  if  Peter  had  denied  his  Master  with  the  same  mal- 
ice that  Paul  persecuted  him  ;  or  if  Paul  had  persecu- 
ted Jesus  with  the  sa.me  conviction  of  his  divinity  as 
Peter  had  received  when  he  denied  him — either  would 
have  committed  the  unpardonable  sin.  The  instances 
of  this  union  of  knowledge  and  hatred  are  so  few,  that 
we  may  reasonably  hope  sinners  of  this  class  are  far 
from  numerous  :  the  most  awful  appearance  of  it 
ieems  to  be  in  those  malicious  pharisees,  who  wilful- 
ly shut  their  eyes  against  the  evidences  of  Christ's  mis- 
sion, and  attributed  all  his  miracles  to  the  agency  of 
Belzebub. 

The  case  of  Esau  has  also  been  much  misunder- 
stood: the  ft  lace  he  sought  for  repentance  was  not  in 
his  own,  but  his  father's  mind,  as  appears  by  the  histo- 
ry \  that  is,  he  sought  to  revoke  his  father's  blessing. 

The  supposition,  however,  that  he  had  committed 
the  unpardonable  sin,  had  such  an  effect  on  Bunyan, 
that  it  not  only  distressed  his  mind,  but  made  his  very 
body,  tremble  for  many  days  together  ;  and  produced 
such  a  stoppage  and  heat  at  his  stomach,  as  greatly  dis- 
ordered him.  Some  comfort  indeed  he  received,  at 
intervals,  from  occasional  reflections  on  the  promises ; 
but  the  most  effectual  relief  he  met  with  was  in  the 

*  Mark  iii.  ?9.  t  Heb.  xii.  17* 


THE    LIFE    OF    JOHX    BUNYAtf.  15 

following  extraordinary  manner,  which  shall  be  related 
in  his  own  words  : 

4  Once,  as  I  was  walking  to  and  fro'  in  a  good  man's 
shop,  bemoaning  myself  in  my  sad  and  dol  eful  state, 
praying  also  in  my  heart,  that  if  this  sin  of  mine  did 
differ  from  that  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Lord 
would  show  it  me  ;  and  being  now  ready  to  sink  with 
fear,  suddenly  there  was,  as  if  there  had  rushed  in  at 
the  window,  the  noise  of  wind  upon  me  ;  but  very 
pleasant,  and  as  if  I  heard  a  voice  speaking,  "  Didst 
thou  ever  refuse  to  be  justified  by  the  blood  of  Christ  ?" 
And  withal  my  whole  life  of  profession  past,  was  in  a 
moment  opened  to  me  ;  wherein  I  was  made  to  see, 
that  designedly  I  had  not;  so  my  heart  answered 
groaningly,  'k  No."  '  Then  fell,  with  power,  that  word, 
of  God  upon  me,  '  See  that  thou  refuseth  not  him  that 
speaketh.'*  This  made  a  strange  seizure  upon  my 
spirit  :  it  brought  light  with  it,  and  commanded  silence 
in  my  heart.  It  showed  me,  also,  that  Jesus  Christ 
had  yet  a  word  of  grace  and  mercy  for  me  ;  yea,  this 
was  a  kind  of  threatening  of  me,  if  I  did  not,  notwith- 
standing^ny  sins  and  the  heinousness  of  them,  venture 
my  salvation  upon  the  Son  of  God.  But  as  to  my  de- 
termining about  this  strange  dispensation,  what  it  was, 
I  know  not ;  or  from  whence  it  came  I  know  not :  I 
have  not  yet,  in  twenty  years  time,  been  able  to  make 
a  judgment  of  it  :  I  thought  then  what  here  I  should 
be  loth  to  speak.  But  verily  that  -sudden  rushing  wind 
was,  as  if  an  angel  had  come  upon  me  ;  but  both  it 
and  the  salvation  I  will  leave  until  the  day  of  judg- 
ment:  only  this  I  say,  it  commanded  a  great  calm  in 
my  soul  ;  it  persuaded  me  there  might  be  hope  ;  it 
showed  me,  as  I  thought,  what  the  sin  unpardonable 
was,  and  that  my  soul  had  yet  the  blessed  privilege  to 
flee  to  Jesus  Christ  for  mercy.  This  lasted  in  the  sa- 
vour of  it  for  about  three  or  four  days  :  and  then  I  be- 
gan to  mistrust  and  despair  again.' 

In  this  situation  Bunyan  found  his  mind  strongly  im- 
pelled to  private  prayer,  which,  when  the  tempter  per- 
ceived, he  endeavored  to  persuade  him  that  it  was  now 

*  HeJb.  *ii,  25. 


16  THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUNYAN. 

oo  late  ;  that  having  denied  and  rejected  Christ,  it  was 
only  adding  sin  to  sin,  and  further  provocation  to  his 
crimes.  His  case  was  desperate ;  but  he  resolved  that 
if  he  perished,  it  should  be  '  at  the  foot  of  Christ  in 
prayer.' 

About  this  time  he  took  the  opportunity  to  break  his 
mind  to  an  aged  Christian.  I  told  him  (says  be)  that 
I  was  afraid  I  had  sinned  the  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost.  He  told  me  he  thought  so  too*  Here,  there- 
fore he  had  but  cold  comfort ;  and  talking  further  with 
him,  found  him,  though  a  good  man,  a  stranger  to  such 
severe  spiritual  conflicts.  He  therefore  went  to  God 
again,  and  reiterated  his  cries  for  mercy  :  though  as 
yet  with  little  comfort,  because  the  hour  of  his  deliv- 
erance was  not  fully  come. 

In  this  interval  he  walked  to  a  neighboring  town, 
where  sitting  to  rest  himself  upon  a  settle  in  the  street, 
he  fell  into  a  deep  pause  upon  his  state  :  after  long 
musing  he  lifted  up  his  head  :  *  But  methought  (says 
he)  I  saw  as  if  the  sun  that  shineth  in  the  heavens  did 
grudge  to  give  light ;  and  as  if  the  very  stones  in  the 
street,  and  tiles  upon  the  houses,  did  bend  themselves 
against  me  :  methought  that  they  all  combined  togeth- 
er to  banish  me  out  of  the  world  ;  I  was  abhorred  of 
them,  and  unworthy  to  dwell  among  them,  or  to  be 
partaker  of  their  benefits,  because  I  had  sinned  against 
the  Saviour.  O  how  happy  now  was  every  creature 
over  me  !  for  they  stood  fast,  and  kept  their  station> 
but  I  was  gone  and  lost. 

'  Then  breaking  out  in  the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  I 
said  to  my  soul,  with  a  grievous  sigh,  "  How  can  God 
comfort  such  a  wretch  as  I  am  ?"  I  had  no  sooner  said 
it,  but  this  returned  upon  me,  as  an  echo  doth  answer 
a  voice,  "  This  sin  is  not  unto  death."*  At  which  I 
was  as  if  I  had  been  raised  out  of  the  giave,  and  cried 
out  again,  "  Lord  how  couldst  thou  find  such  a  word 
as  this  ?"  For  I  was  filled  with  admiration  at  the  fitness 
and  at  the  unexpectedness  cf  the  sentence  :  the  power 
and  sweetness,  and  light,  and  glory,  that  came  with  it 
also,  was  marvellous  to  me  to  find.     Now,  thought  I* 

*John  v.  16,  17. 


THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUNYAtf.  17 

if  this  sin-is  not  unto  death,  then  it  is  pardonable  ;  there- 
fore from  this  I  have  encouragement  to  come  lo  God 
by  Christ  for  mercy,  as  well  as  others.' 

The  comfort  of  this  word,  however,  was  not  of  long 
duration,  any  more  than  the  preceding.  Within  two  or 
three  days  he  began  to  droop  again  ;  but,  again  and 
again,  was  revived  with  the  application  of  some  or  oth- 
er of  the  promises  of  the  gospel.  These  repeated 
temptations  made  him  more  attentive  and  scrupulous 
in  examining  the  ground  of  his  consolations,  lest  he 
should  deceive  himself  with  a  misapplication  of  the  pro- 
mises. Thus  his  mind  continued  for  weeks,  and  months, 
and  in  the  whole  for  years,  hanging  (so  he  express- 
es it)  •  as  in  a  pair  of  scales ;  sometimes  up,  and 
sometimes  down  ;  now  in  peace,  and  anon  again  in  ier- 
ror  ;'  not,  however,  so  extreme  as  he  had  felt  before; 
for  this  was  but  the  hinder  part  of  the  tempest :  *  the 
thunder  (says  he)  was  gone  beyond  me,  only  some 
drops  did  still  now  and  then  fall  on  me  ;  but  because 
my  former  frights  and  anguish  were  sore  and  deep ; 
therefore  it  oft  befel  me  still,  as  it  befalleth  those  that 
have  been  scared  with  fire,  I  thought  every  voice  was 
Fire  !  Fire  J* 

At  length  his  chains  were  loosed,  his  irons  knocked 
off,  and  those  alarming  scriptures  ceased  to  trouble 
him.  As  he  saw  further  into  the  nature  and  spirit  of 
the  gospel,  he  felt  the  ground  of  his  dependance  more 
secure,  aud  was  in  the  end  made  an  extraordinary  is- 
strument  of  comforting  others  with  the  same  consola- 
tions which  he  himself  received.  But  before  we  pro- 
ceed, I  beg  leave  to  be  indulged  in  a  few  observations 
on  the  -preceding  narrative  ;  and  shall  begin  wi^h  Mr. 
Bunyan's  own  reflections. 

1.  On  the  causes  of  his  extraordinary  temptations. 
These  he  considers  as  principally  two,  which  shall  be 
related  in  his  own  simple  phraseology.  *  The  first  was 
that  I  did  not,  when  I  was  delivered  from  the  tempta- 
tions that  went  before,  still  pray  to  Qstti  ,to  keep  me 
from  temptations  that  were  to  coine  ;  for  though,  as  J. 
^an  say  in  truth,  my  soul  was  much  in  prayer  before 
this  trial  seized  me  ;  yet  then  1  prayed  only,  or  princi- 
pally for  the  removal  of  present  troubles,  aiidfer  jfoe&k 
32 


18  THE   LIFE   OV    JOHN    BVXYATt, 

discoveries  of  his  love  in  Christ :  which  I  saw  after- 
wards was  not  enough  to  do  ;  I  also  should  have  pray- 
ed, that  the  great  God  would  keep  me  from  the  evil 
that  was  to  come :  according  to  what  is  written,  "  Pray, 
that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation." 

Another  cause  of  this  temptation  was,  that  I  had 
tempted  God,  and  in  this  manner :  upon  a  time  my 
wife  was  great  with  child,  and  before  her  full  time  was 
come,  her  pangs  as  of  a  woman  in  travail,  were  fierce 
and  strong  upon  her  ;  even  as  if  she  would  have  imme- 
diately fallen  in  labor,  and  been  delivered  of  an  untime- 
ly birth.  Now  at  this  very  time  it  was,  that  I  had  been 
so  strongly  tempted  to  question  the  being  of  God  ; 
wherefore,  as  my  wife  lay  crying  by  me,  I  said,  but 
with  all  secrecy  imaginable,  even  thinking  in  my  heart, 
"Lord,  if  now  thou  will  remove  this  sad  affliction  fiom 
my  wife,  and  cause  that  she  be  troubled  no  more  there- 
with this  night  (and  now  were  her  pangs  just  upon 
her)  then  I  shall  know  that  thou  canst  discern  the 
most  secret  thoughts  of  my  heart."  I  had  no  sooner 
said  it  in  my  heart,  but  her  pangs  were  taken  from 
her,  and  she  was  cast  into  a  deep  sleep  ;  at  this  I  great- 
ly marvelled  ;  but  after  a  good  while  1  fell  to  sleep  al- 
so :  so  when  I  awaked  in  the  morning,  it  came  upon 
me  again,  what  I  had  said  in  my  heart  the  last  night, 
and  how  the  Lord  had  showed  me,  that  he  knew  my 
secret  thoughts  ;  which  was  a  great  astonishment  unto 
me  for  several  weeks  after. 

Well,  about  a  year  and  a  half  afterwards,  that  sinful 
thought,  of  which  I  have  spoken  before,  went  through 
my  wicked  heart ;  even  this  thought,  u  let  Christ  go  if 
he  will  :,*  so  when  I  was  fallen  under  guilt  for  this,  the 
remembrance  of  my  other  thought,  and  of  the  effect 
thereof,  would  also  come  upon  me,  with  this  rebuke  a- 
long  with  itj  "  Now  you  may  see  that  God  doth  know 
the  most  secret  thoughts  of  the  heart.'* 

And  with  this,ihat  of  the  passages  that  were  betwixt 
the  Lord  andi^s  servant  Gideon,  fell  upon  my  spirit ; 
how  because  that  Gideon  tempted  God  with  his  fleece, 
both  wet  and  dry,  when  he  should  have  believed  and 
ventured  upon  his  word  :  therefore  the  Lord  did  after- 
wards so  try  him,  as  to  send  hira  against  an  innumers- 


THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN    BtJNYAN.  19 

ble  company  of  enemies  ;  and  that  too,  as  to  outward 
appearance,  without  any  strength  or  help.*  Thus  he 
served  me,  and  that  justly  ;  for  1  should  have  believed 
his  word,  and  not  have  put  an  if  to  the  all-seeing  God.' 

2.  Our  author  leads  us  i.ext  to  remark  the  advanta- 
ges he  derived  from  these  painful  and  distressing  trials; 
they  were  briefly  such  as  these  :  a  strong  and  abiding 
conviction  of  the  being,  power,  and  holiness  of  God — a 
deep  experience  of  the  value  and  preciousness  of  the 
promises,  to  which  he  was  enabled  to  ciing  and  cleave, 
as  a  man  in  immediate  danger  of  being  drowned — an 
exceeding  lively  sense  of  the  infinite  mercy,  grace,  and 
love  of  God,  which  was  at  times  such,  that  he  thinks  if 
it  had  abode  long  '  it  would  have  made  him  incapable 
of  business.' 

We  must  now  resume  our  narrative,  consider  our 
author  as  a  public  character,  and  give  some  account  of 
his  being  called  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  which  was 
1  about  five  or  six  years'  after  his  conversion.  This 
was  first  suggested,  it  seems,  by  some  serious  and  ju- 
dicious members  of  Mr.  Gifford's  church,  who  appre- 
hended that,  both  from  his  gifts  and  experience,  he  was 
calculated  for  public  and  eminent  usefulness  in  the 
church. 

His  first  attempts  were  (as  is  the  manner  among  dis- 
senters^ in  private,  and  to  a  few  select  heaiers  ;  after- 
wards he  ventured  to  exhort  in  some  of  the  neighboring 
villages;  and  finally,  at  the  desire  of  the  church,  he 
■was  solemnly  set  apart,  with  prayer  and  fasting,  to  the 
public  ministry  of  the  word.  As  to  himself,  he  tells 
us,  he  was  enabled  to  see  '  that  the  Holy  Ghost  never 
intended  that  men  who  have  gifts  and  abilities  should 
bury  them  in  the  earth  ;  but  rather  did  command  and 
stir  up  such  to  the  exercise  of  their  gift  ;  and  also  did 
commend  those  that  were  apt  and  ready  so  to  do  : 
"  They  have  addicted  themselves  to  the  ministry  of  the 
saints."t 

When  it  was  known  that  Bunyan,  the  profane  tinker, 
had  commenced  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  hearers  soon 
flocked  around  him  to  the  amount  of  many  hundreds, 
and  that  from  all  quarters.      Nor  did  he  preach  long 

Jwjg.  ¥»  7.  \  1  Cor.  xvi.  5- 


I'O  THE    LIKE    OF    JOHN    BUNYAN. 

without  visible  success  :  many  came  with  weeping 
eyes  and  bleeding  hearts,  to  confess  their  sins,  and  bless 
God  for  him  as  the  instrument  of  their  conversion.  At 
first  he  found  it  hard  to  believe  that  the  Lord  had  so 
highly  honored  him,  but  was  soon  constrained  to  join 
wiin  them  in  blessing  ajid  adoration. 

One  instance  panic alarly  worth  recording,  is  of  a 
dissolute  student  of  Cambridge  university,  who,  being 
indu<  ed  by  curiosity  to  hear  *  tfie  tinker  prate/  was  so 
aft* toted  w/ch  his  sermon  as  to  become  a  real  convert, 
and,  in  tAie  issue,  an  eminent  preacher  of  the  gospel. 

Th«i  effects  of  this  honest  man's  preaching  were  so 
different  from  what  usually  attended  the  sermons  of 
lea.rned,  ingenious,  and  polite  preachers,  that  the  rea- 
der may  probably  wish  to  hear  something  of  the  mat- 
ter and  method  of  his  preaching,  which  cannot  be  giv- 
en bettei  than  in  his  own  plain  but  emphatic  language. 

'  In  my  preaching  of  the  word,  I  took  special  notice 
of  this  one  thing  ;  namely,  that  the  Lord  did  lead  me 
to  begin  where  his  word  begins  with  sinners  ;  that  is, 
to  condemn  all  flesh,  and  to  open  and  allege  that  the 
curse  of  God  by  the  law  doth  belong  to,  and  lay  hold  on 
all  men  as  they  come  into  the  world,  because  of  sin. 
Now  this  part  of  my  work  I  fulfilled  with  great  sense 
[of  terror,!  for  the  terrors  of  the  law,  and  guilt  for  my 
transgressions,  lay  heavy  on  my  conscience. 

k  I  went  myself  in  chains,  to  preach  to  them  in  chains  ; 
.and  carried  that  fire  in  my  own  conscience  that  1  per- 
suaded them  to  beware  of.  I  can  truly  say,  and  that 
without  dissembling,  that  when  I  have  been  to  preach, 
I  have  gone  full  of  guilt  and  terror,  even  to  the  pulpit 
door,  and  there  it  hath  been  taken  off,  and  I  have  been 
at  liberty  in  my  mind  until  I  have  done  my  work ; 
and  then  immediately,  even  before  I  could  get  down 
the  pulpit  stairs,  I  have  been  as  bad  as  I  was  before: 
yet  God  carried  me  on.:  but  surely  with  a  strong  hanoV 
for  mither  guilt  nor  hell  could  take  me  off  my  work, 

1  Thus  I  went  on  for  the  space  of  two  years.  After 
which  the  Lord  came  in  upon  my  own  soul,  with  some 
sure  peace  and  comfort  through  Christ ;  for  he  did 
give  me  many  sweet  disco veries  of  his  blessed  grace 
through  him.    Wherefore  now  I  altered  in  my  preach* 


THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUNVAN.  21 

ing  (for  still  I  preached  what  I  saw  and  felt ;)  now  there- 
fore I  did  much  labor  to  hold  forth  Jesus  Christ  in  all 
offices,  relations,  and  benefits  unto  the  world,  and  did 
strive  also  to  discover,  to  condemn,  and  remove  those 
false  supports  and  props  on  which  the  world  doth  both 
lean,  and  by  them  fall  and  perish.  On  these  things  ah 
so  I  staid  as  long  as  on  the  other. 

*  After  this,  God  led  me  into  something  of  the  mys- 
tery of  the  union  of  Christ  :  wherefore  that  I  discover- 
ed, and  showed  to  them  also.  And  when  I  had  travel- 
led through  these  three  chief  points  of  the  word  of  God, 
about  the  space  of  five  years  or  more,  I  was  caught  in 
my  present  practice  and  cast  into  prison ;  where  I  have 
lain  above  as  long  again  to  confirm  the  truth  by  way 
of  suffering,  as  I  was  before  in  testifying  of  it  according 
to  the  scriptures,  in  a  way  of  preaching. 

*  When  1  have  been  preaching,  1  thank  God,  my 
heart  nath  often,  all  the  time  of  this  and  the  other  exer- 
cise, with  great  earnestness  cried  to  God  that  he 
iroiild  make  the  word  effectual  to  salvation  :  where- 
fore 1  did  labor  so  to  speak,  as  that  thereby,  if  it  were 
possible,  the  sin  and  person  guilty  might  be  particular- 
ized by  it. 

4  Also  when  I  have  done  the  exercise,  it  hath  gone 
to  my  heart  to  think  the  word  should  now  fall  as  rain 
on  stony  plates  :  still  wishing,  O  that  they  who  have 
heard  me  speak,  did  but  see  as  I  do,  what  sin,  death, 
heli.  and  the  curse  of  God  is !  2nd  also  what  the  grace, 
and  love,  and  mercy  of  God  is  through  Christ  to  men, 
in  su  h  a  case  as  they  are,  who  are  yet  estranged  from 
him  !  and  indeed  1M  often  say  in  my  heart  before  the 
Lord,  that  if  to  be  hanged  up  presently  before  their 
eyes,  would  be  a  means  to  awaken  them,  and  confirm 
them  in  the  truth,  I  gladly  could  be  contented. 

1  When  I  went  first  to  preach  the  word  abroad,  the 
doctors  and  priests  of  the  country  did  open  wide  a- 
gainst  me  :  but  I  was  persuaded  of  this,  not  to  render 
railing  for  railing,  but  to  see  how  many  of  their  carnal 
professors  I  should  convince  of  their  miserable  state 
by  the  law,  and  of  the  want  and  worth  of  Christ ;  for. 


22  THE    LIFE    OF   JOHN    BUNYAN. 

thought  I,  u  This  shall  answer  for  me  in  time  to  come, 
when  they  shall  be  for  my  hire  before  their  face."* 

1  I  never  cared  to  meddle  with  things  that  were  con- 
troverted, and  in  dispute  among  the  saints,  and  espe- 
cially things  of  the  lowest  nature  ;  yet  it  pleased  me 
much  to  contend  with  great  earnestness  for  the  word 
of  faith,  and  the  remission  of  sins  by  the  death  and  suf- 
ferirgs  of  Jesus  ;  but,  I  say,  as  to  other  things  I  should 
but  let  them  alone,  because  I  saw  they  engendered 
strife,  and  because  that  they,  neither  in  doing,  nor  in' 
leaving  undone,  did  commend  us  to  God  to  be  his. 
Besides,  I  saw  my  work  before  me  did  run  into  another 
channel,  even  to  carry  an  awakening  word;  to  that 
therefore  I  did  adhere. 

1  If  any  of  those  who  were  awakened  by  my  minis- 
try, did  after  that  fail  back  (as  too  many  did)  I  can  tru- 
ly say,  their  loss  hath  been  more  to  me,  than  if  my  own 
child  had  been  going  to  its  grave.  My  heart  hath 
been  so  wrapped  up  in  the  glory  oi  this  excellent  work, 
that  I  counted  myself  more  blessed  and  honored  of  God 
by  this,  than  if  he  had  made  me  emperor  of  the  Chris- 
tian world,  or  the  lord  of  all  the  glory  of  the  earth  with- 
out it  1  Oh,  these  words  !  u  He  that  converteth  a  sin- 
ner from  the  error  of  his  way,  doth  save  a  soul  from 
death."t  They  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  bright- 
ness of  the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to 
righteousness,  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever."|  These, 
I  say,  with  many  others  of  a  like  nature,  have  been 
great  refreshments  to  me. 

*  My  great  desi  •* ,,  in  my  fulfilling  my  ministry,  was 
to  get  into  the  darkest  places  of  the  country  :  yet  not 
because  I  could  not  endure  the  light  (for  I  feared  not 
to  show  my  gospel  to  any)  but  because  I  found  my  spi- 
rit leaned  most  after  awakening  and  converting  work, 
and  the  word  that  I  carried  did  lean  itself  most  that  way 
also  :  .'  Yea,  so  have  1  strived  to  preach  the  gospel, 
not  where  Christ  was  named,  lest  1  should  build  upon 
another  man's  foundation. "§ 

'  But  in  this  work,  as  in  all  others,  I  had  my  tempta- 
tions attending  me ;  and  that  of  divers  kinds  :  as  some- 

»  Gen.  xxv  23.  {James  v.  20.  J  Dan.  xii.  3.    §  Rom  xv.  20. 


- 
THE    LIJE    OF    JOI1X    BUN  VAX.  33 

times  I  should  be  assaulted  with  great  discouragement 
therein  ;  feaiing  that  I  should  not  be  able  to  speak 
a  world  at  all  to  edification  ;  nay,  that  I  should  not  be 
able  to  speak  sense  unto  the  people  ;  at  n  hich  times  I 
should  have  such  a  strange  faintness  and  strengthless- 
ness  seize  upon  my  body,  that  my  legs  have  scarce 
been  able  to  carry  me  to  the  place  of  exercise. 

*  Sometimes,  again,  when  1  have  been  preaching,  I  , 
have  been  violently  assaulted  with  thoughts  of  blasphe- 
my, and  strongly  tempted  to  speak  the  words  with  my 
mouth  before  the  congregation.  I  have  also,  at  times, 
even  when  I  have  begun  to  speak  the  word  with  much 
clearness,  evidence,  and  liberty  of  speech,  yet  been,  be- 
fore the  ending  of  that  opportunity,  so  blinded,  and  so 
estranged  from  the  things  I  hare  been  speaking,  and 
have  been  also  straitened  in  my  speech,  as  to  utterance 
before  the  people,  that  I  have  been  as  if  I  had  not 
known  or  remembered  what  I  have  been  about ;  or  as 
if  my  head  had  been  in  a  bag  all  the  time  of  my  exercise. 
4  Again,  when  at  some  times  I  have  been  about  to 
preach  upon  a  smart  and  searching  portion  of  the  word, 
I  have  found  the  tempter  suggest,  What  !  will  you 
preach  this  ?  This  condemns  yourself ;  wherefore 
preach  not  of  it  at  all ;  or  if  you  do,  yet  so  mince  it  as 
to  make  way  for  your  own  escape  ;  lest,  instead  of  a- 
wakening  others,  you  lay  that  guilt  upon  your  own  soul 
as  you  will  never  get  from  under."  But  I  thank  the 
Lord,  I  have  been  kept  from  consenting  to  these  so  hor- 
rid suggestions  ;  and  have  rather,  as  Sampson,  bowed 
myself  with  all  my  might,  to  condemn  sin  and  trans- 
gression wherever  I  found  it. 

'  I  have  also,  while  found  in  this  blessed  work  of 
Christ,  been  often  tempted  to  pride  and  lifting  up  of 
my  heart ;  and  though  1  dare  not  say  I  have  not  been 
affected  with  this,  yet  truly  the  Lord,  of  his  precious 
mercy,  hath  so  can  hd  it  towards  me,  that  for  the  most 
part  I  have  had  but  small  joy  to  give  way  to  such  a 
thing  ;  for  it  hath  been  ii\y  every  day's  portion,  to  be 
let  into  the  evils  of  my  own  heart,  and  still  made  to  see 
Such  a  multitude  of  corruptions  and  infirmities  therein, 
that  it  hath  caused  hanging  down  of  the  head,  under  all 
my  gifts  and  attainments.'  * 

Mr.  Bunyan's  imprisonment  has  been  already  men- 


24  THE    LIFE    OF    JOHff    BUNVA.N. 

tioned.  He  was  tried  at  Bedford  quarter  sessions  in  1 660; 
and  the  indictment  stated  that  'John  Bunyan,  of  the 
town  of  Bedford,  labourer,  had  devilishly  and  fiernicious- 
!y  abstained  from  coming  to  church  to  hear  divine  ser- 
vice, and  was  a  common  upholder  of  several  unlawful 
meetings  and  conventicles,  to  the  great  disturbance  and 
distraction  of  the  good  subjects  of  this  kingdom,  con- 
trary to  the  laws  of  our  sovereign,  lord  and  king,  See. 
Not  to  animadvert  upon  the  ridiculous  language  of  this 
indictment  (too  much  of  the  same  unmeaning  jargon 
being  still  preserved)  the  facts  were  not  legally  proved; 
no  witnesses  were  produced  against  him,  but  some  part 
of  his  own  examination  was  taken  for  a  confession,  and 
recorded  ;  and  he  was  sentenced  to  perpetual  banish- 
ment, for  persisting  to  preach  and  refusing  to  conform. 
The  sentence  itself  was  never  executed  ;  but  he  was 
very  illegally  detained  a  prisoner  for  twelve  years  and 
an  half  in  Bedford  jail. 

In  the  early  part  of  his  imprisonment,  the  Lord 
gave  him  favor  with  the  keeper  of  the  jail,  and  he  had 
many  indulgences,  which  the  malice  of  his  enemies  af- 
er  wards  restrained  from  him. 

There  were  confined  in  the  same  prison  about  sixty 
other  dissenters,  taken  at  a  meeting  at  Kaistoe  in  Bed- 
fordshire, among  whom  were  two  eminent  preachers, 
Mr.  Wheeler,  and  Mr.  Dunn.  During  his  confinement 
he  employed  his  pen,  partly  in  writing  his  Pilgrim's 
Progress,  and  other  valuable  tracts  ;  partly  in  preach- 
ing to  his  fellow  prisoners,  and  others  who  came  to  hear 
him  ;  and  partly  in  making  tagged  laces  for  the  sup- 
port of  himself  and  family,  an  art  acquired  after  he  was 
in  confinement. 

As  this  must  have  been  a  trying  season,  it  may  be 
worth  o^r  inquiry,  in  what  manner  his  mind  was  sup- 
ported and  carried  through  it,  which  shall  be  given  al- 
so chiefly  in  his  own  words,  written  (as  it  should  seem} 
while  he  was  yet  in  prison. 

1  I  never  had  in  all  my  life  so  great  an  inlet  into  the 
word  of  God  as  now.  Those  scriptures  that  I  saw  no- 
thing in  before,  are  made  in  this  place  and  state  to  shine 
upon  me.  So  that  sometin  *  s,  when  I  have  been  in  the 
savour  of  them,  I  have  been  able  "  to  laugh  at  destruc- 


THE     LIFE    OF   JOHN    BUNYAN.  2$ 

tion,  and  to  fear  neither  the  horse  nor  his  rider."  I  have 
had  sweet  sights  of  the  forgiveness  of  my  sins  in  this 
place,  and  of  my  being  with  Jesus  in  another  world. 
**»  O  the  mount  Sion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  in- 
numerable company  of  angels,  and  God  the  judge  of 
all,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect/'  and  Je- 
sus, have  been  sweet  unto  me  in  this  place  !  I  have 
seen  that  here,  that  I  am  persuaded  I  shall  never,  whHe 
in  this  world  be  able  to  express.  I  have  seen  a  truth 
in  this  scripture,  "  Whom  having  not  seen,  ye  love  ; 
in  whom,  though  now  you  see  him  not,  yet  believing, 
ye  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory."* 

For  more  than  a  year  before  his  imprisonment,  he 
had  strong  forebodings  of  this  event,  and  even  to  a  more 
fatal  issue,  for  he  feared  his  sufferings  might  terminate 
in  the  gibbet,  and  he  was  at  this  much  harassed. with 
the  apprehension  that  in  such  circumstances  he  might 
be  left  to  himself,  to  encounter  the  temptations  of  the 
enemy  ;  and  not  only  suffer  distress  himself,  but  disho- 
nor also  the  cause  of  God :  in  this  expectation  he  was 
led  to  apply  *  to  the  strong  for  strength,'  and  it  was 
part  of  his  daily  petition  that  he  might  be  '  strengthen- 
ed with  all  might  according  to  his  glorious  power,  unto 
all  patience  and  long  sufFering  with  joyfulness.'f  That 
scripture  was  also  of  great  use  to  him,  '  We  had  the 
sentence  of  death  in  ourselves,  that  we  might  not  trust 
in  ourselves,  but  in  God  that  raiseth  the  dead.'J — l  By 
this  scripture  (says  he)  I  was  made  to  see,  that  if  ever 
I  would  suffer  rightly,  I  must  first  pass  a  sentence  of 
dearth  upon  every  thing  properly  of  this  life  ;  even  to 
reckon  myself,  my  wife,  my  children,  my  health,  my 
enjoyments,  and  all,  as  dead  to  me,  and  myself  as  dead 
to  them.' 

Another  consideration  of  great  weight  upon  his  mind 
was,  how  to  support  himself  without  fainting,  under  ap- 
proaching trials,  of  which  he  could  not  see  the  issve  ; 
and  he  rightly  judged,  there  was  no  method  like  that  re- 
commended by  St.  Paul  to  *  look  not  at  the  things  which 
are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen  :  for  the 
things  that  are  seen  are  temporal ;  but  the  things  that 

•lPct.  i.  8.  f  Col.  i.  Hi  t2Cor.  i.  9. 

C 


k26  THE    LIFE    OF    JOHN*    BFNYAN* 


are  not  seen  are  eternal!  and  thus  our  author  reasoned 
with  himself: 

1  If  I  provide  only  for  a  prison,  then  the  whip  comes 
at  unawares  ;  and  so  doth  also  the  pillory.  Again,  if  I 
only  provide  for  these,  then  I  am  not  fit  for  banishment. 
Further,  if  I  conclude  that  banishment  is  the  worst,  then 
if  death  come,  I  am  surprised.  So  that  1  see  the  best 
way  to  go  through  suffering,  is  to  trust  in  God  through 
Christ,  as  touching  the  world  to  come  :  and,  as  touching 
this  world,  to  count  the  grave  my  house,  to  make  my 
bed  in  darkness,  and  to  say  to  corruption  "  Thou  art 
my  father,"  and  to  the  worm,  "  Thou  art  my  mother 
and  sister  ;"  that  is,  to  familiarize  these  things  to  me. 

But  notwithstanding  these  helps,  I  found  myself  a  man 
encompassed  with  infirmities.  The  parting  with  my 
wife  and  poor  children  hath  often  been  to  me  in  this 
place,  as  the  pulling  my  flesh  from  my  bones  ;  and  that 
not  only'because  I  am  somewhat  too  fond  of  these  great 
mercies,  but  also  because  I  should  have  often  brought  to 
my  mind  the  many  hardships,  miseries,  and  wants,  that 
my  poor  family  were  like  to  meet  with,  especially  my 
poor  blind  child,  who  lay  nearer  my  heait  than  all  I  had 
beside.  Oh!  the  thoughts  of  the  hardships  I  thought 
my  blind  one  might  undergo,  would  break  my  heart  to 
pieces.  But  yet  recalling  myself,  thought  I,  I  must 
venture  you  all  with  God,  though  it  goeth  to  the  quick 
to  leave  you.  But  that  which  helped  me  in  this  temp- 
tation, was, "Leave  thy  fatherless  children,  I  will  pre- 
serve them  alive ;  and  let  thy  widows  trust  in  me :" 
and  again,  u  The  Lord  said,  Verily  it  shall  go  well  with 
thy  remnant ;  verily  I  will  cause  the  enemy  to  entreat 
thee  well  in  the  time  of  evil,  &c."* 

4  I  had  also  this  consideration,  that  if  I  should  now 
venture  all  for  God,  I  engaged  God  to  take  care  of  my 
concernments;  but  if  I  forsook  him  in  his  ways,  for 
fear  of  any  trouble  that  should  come  to  me  or  mine, 
then  I  should  not  only  falsify  my  profession,  but  should 
ocunt  also  that  my  concernments  were  not  so  sure,  if 
left  at  God's  feet,  whilst  I  stood  to  and  for  his  name,  as 
they  wojld  be,  if  they  were  under  my  own  care,  though 

•  Jer,  xlix.  11- 


THB   LIFE    OF    JOHN    BUtfTAN.  27 

with  the  denial  of  the  way  of  God.  This  was  a  smart- 
ing consideration,  and  as  spurs  to  my  flesh. 

*  I  had  also  the  dread  of  the  torments  of  hell,  which 
I  was  sure  they  must  partake  of,  that,  for  fear  of  the 
cross,  do  shrink  from  their  profession  of  Christ,  his 
words  and  laws,  before  the  sons  of  men.  I  thought  al- 
so of  the  glory  that  he  had  prepared  for  those  that  in 
faith  and  love,  and  patience,  stood  to  his  ways  before 
them.  These  things  I  say,  have  helped  me  when  the 
thoughts  of  the  misery  that  both  myself  and  mine  might, 
for  the  sake  of  my  profession,  be  exposed  to,  hath  lain 
pinching  on  my  mind. 

1  When  I  have  indeed  conceited,  that  I  might  be  ban- 
ished for  my  profession,  then  I  have  thought  of  that 
scripture,  "  They  were  stoned,  they  were  sawn  asund- 
er, were  tempted,  were  slain  with  the  sword  :  they 
wandered  about  in  sheep  skins,  and  goat  skins,  beipg 
destitute,  afflicted,  tormented,  of  whom  the  world  was 
not  worthy  :"•  for  all  they  thought  they  were  too  bad 
to  dwell,  and  abide  amongst  them.  I  have  sometimes 
reasoned  about  the  sore  and  sad  estate  of  a  banished 
and  exiled  condition,  how  such  are  exposed  to  hunger, 
to  cold,  to  perils,  to  nakedness,  to  enemies,  and  a  thou- 
sand calamities,  and  at  last,  it  may  be  to  die  in  a  ditch, 
like  a  poor  forlorn  and  desolate  sheep.  But  I  thank 
God,  hitherto  I  have  not  been  moved  by  these  most 
delicate  reasonings,  but  have  rather  by  them  more  ap- 
proved my  heart  to  God.' 

It  seems  wonderful,  indeed,  that  such  a  man  should 
have  been  suffered  to  languish  so  long,  and  so  unjustly, 
in  a  prison,  and  that  with  little  effort  for  his  enlargement. 
His  wife  indeed  once  applied  to  the  judges  at  the  assizes 
on  his  behalf,  but  was  opposed  by  the  magistrates,  who 
did  all  in  their  power  to  prejudice  the  judges  against 
him.  The  great  and  good  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  who  was 
present,  appeared  desirous  of  relieving  him,  if  the  mat- 
ter had  been  brought  judicially  before- him,  and  for  this 
end  advised  his  wife  to  procure  a  writ  of  error  ;  but 
whether  they  were  too  poor  and  friendless  to  do  this,  or 
whether  they  were  ignorant  how  to  proceed,  or  intimi- 
dated by  the  power  of  their  enemies,  or  the  iniquity  o\ 

•  Heb.  si 


28  THB    LIFE    OF   JOHN    BUNTAN. 

the  times,  no  steps  appear  to  have  been  taken  of  this 
nature.  At  length  Bishofi  Barlow  and  some  other 
churchmen,  rather,  as  should  seem,  from  motives  of 
compassion  than  of  equity,  interested  themselves  on 
his  behalf,  and  procured  his  enlargement :  after  which 
he  travelled,  in  various  parts  of  the  kingdom,  visiting 
and  encouraging  the  brethren,  insomuch  that  he  was 
called  Bishofi  Bunyan  ;  and  the  reader  will  doubtless 
agree  with  me,  that  he  better  merited  the  title  than 
those  downy  prelates  who  suffered  him  to  languish 
twelve  years  in  a  jail,  for  preaching  that  gospel  which 
they  ought  to  have  preached  themselves. 

In  the  following  reign,  when  king  James  II.  declar- 
ed fov  liberty  of  conscience,  Bunyan  was  enabled,  by  the 
voluntary  contributions  of  his  hearers,  to  build  a  meet- 
inghouse, where  he  preached  to  large  congregations, 
as  he  did  also  when  he  visited  the  metropolis,  where 
he  was  sometimes  honored  with  the  attendance  and 
/decided  approbation,  of  the  great  Dr.  Owen.  And  so 
popular  was  he,  that  if  but  one  day's  notice  was  given, 
the  meeting-house  in  Southwark,  where  he  generally 
preached,  would  not  hold  half  the  people  who  attended. 
Three  thousand  have  been  gathered  together  for  this 
purpose  in  a  remote  part  of  the  town  ;  and  not  less  than 
twelve  hundred  at  seven  o'clock  on  a  dark  winter's 
morning,  even  in  the  week  days, 

Amidst  all  this  popularity  he  was  kept  humble  and 
modest  in  his  conversation,  and  exemplary  in  his  beha- 
viour. Slanders,  indeed,  were  invented  by  his  enemies, 
but  soon  died  away ;  and  his  biographers  are  all  agreed, 
that  in  the  latterfpart  of  his  life,  from  his  conversion, 
his  *  moral  character  was  unexceptionable.'* 

His  valuable  life,  worn  out  with  labor,  and  with  suf- 
fering, closed  at  the  age  of  threescore,  with  a  memora- 
ble act  of  Christian  charity.  His  conduct  in  his  own 
neighborhood  had  procured  him  the  blessed  character 
of  n/u ace  maker  :  he  was  therefore  sent  to,  while  on  a 
visit  to  London,  by  a  young  gentleman  at  Bedford,  to 
mediate  with  his  offended  father,  who  lived  at  Reading 
in  Berkshire.  He  succeeded ;  but  on  his  return  to  the 
.metropolis,  being  overtaken  with  excessive  rains,  came 

*  Biog.  Brit. 


THE    LIFE   OF    JOHN    BtWYAN.  29 

very  wet  to  his  friend's  (Mr.  Straddock,  grocer,)  at  the 
Star  on  Snow-hill,  which  produced  a  fatal  fever.  He 
bore  this,  as  he  had  done  his  other  sufferings,  with  great 
patience  and  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  in  submis- 
sion to  which,  however,  he  i  desired  to  depart  and  be 
with  Christ.'  In  this  frame  of  spirit  he  lay  about  ten 
days,  when  hecrossedthe  mystical  Jordan,  August  SI, 
1668,  following  his  Christian  Pilgrim  to  the  celestial 
city. 

He  was  buried  in  a  vault  belonging  to  a  friend  in  the 
Dissenters'  burial-place,  adjoining  the  Artillery 
Ground,  Moorfields — since  Bun-hill  fields,  traditional- 
ly supposed  to  have  been  so  called  from  his  having 
been  one  of  the  first  buried  there. 

Mr.  Bunyan  was  twice  married.  By  his  first  wife, 
Elizabeth,  he  had  four  children,  one  of  whom,  named 
Mary,  was  blind,  and  died  before  him.  He  married 
his  second  wife  about  1658,  and  she  survived  him  only 
about  four  years,  dying  in  1692.  It  does  not  appear 
that  she  had  any  children. 

Nor  have  we  any  further  account  of  his  children  by 
his  former  wife,  so  that  he  appears  in  history,  as  an  il- 
lustrious pen  expresses  it,  '  an  insolated  individual/ 
without  progenitors,  and  without  descendants. 

As  to  his  person  and  temper,  his  character  is  thus 
delineated  by  a  continuator  of  his  life  :  '  He  appeared 
in  countenance  to  be  of  a  stern  and  rough  temper  ;  but 
in  his  conversation  mild  and  affable,  not  given  to  much 
discourse  in  company  unless  some  urgent  occasion  re- 
quired it  ;  observing  never  to  boast  of  himself,  or  his 
parts,  but  rather  submit  himself  to  the  judgment  of 
others  ;  abhorring  lying  and  swearing,  being  just  in  all 
that  lay  in  his  power  to  his  word  ;  not  seeming  to  re- 
venge injuries,  loving  to  reconcile  differences,  and 
make  friendship  with  all.  He  had  a  sharp  quick  eye, 
accompanied  with  an  excellent  discerning  of  persons,be- 
ingofgood  judgment  and  quick  wit.  Asforhis  person, 
he  was  tall  of  stature,  strong  boned,  though  not  corpu- 
lent, somewhat  of  a  ruddy  face,  with  sparkling  eyes, 
wearing  his  hair  upon  his  upper  lip  after  the  old  Brit- 
ish fashion  :  his  hair  reddish,  but  in  his  latter  days, 
time  had  sprinkled  it  with  grey  ;  his  nose  well  set,  but 
C  2 


30  THE   LIFE   OF    JOHN    BUNTAff* 

not  declining  or  bending,  and  his  mouth  moderate 
large,  his  forehead  something  high,  and  his  habit  al- 
ways plain  and  modest.' 

His  works  iorm  two  large  volumes  in  folio,  and  con- 
tain, according  to  Mr.  Grainger,*  as  many  tracts  as 
he  had  lived  years  :  a  great  part  of  them  were  probably 
the  substance  of  his  pulpit  discourses,  which  he  used 
commonly  to  commit  to  writing,  not  beford,  but  after 
he  had  preached  them. 

»Biog.  Hist,»fEi>g- 


■hie 
AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY. 

WHEN  at  the  first  I  took  my  pen  in  band. 
Thus  for  to  write  I  did  not  understand 
That  I  at  all  should  make  a  little  Book 
In  such  a  mode  :  nay,  I  had  undertook 
To  make  another ;  which,  when  almost  done, 
Before  I  was  aware,  I  thus  begun. 

And  thus  it  was ;  I,  writing  of  the  way 
And  race  of  saints  in  this  our  gospel  day, 
Fell  suddenly  into  an  allegory, 
About  their  journey,  and  the  way  to  glory, 
In  more  than  twenty  things,  which  I  set  down  ; 
This  done,  I  twenty  more  had  in  my  crown, 
And  they  again  began  to  multiply, 
Like  sparks  that  from  the  coals  of  fire  doth  fly. 
Nay  then,  thought  I,  if  that  you  breed  so  fast, 
I'll  put  you  by  yourselves,  lest  you  at  last 
Should  prove  ad  in/ijiitum,  and  eat  out 
The  book  that  I  already  am  about. 

Well,  so  I  did;  but  yet  I  did  not  think 
To  show  to  all  the  world  my  pen  and  ink 
In  such  a  mode  ;  I  only  thought  to  make 
I  knew  not  what ;  nor  did  I  undertake 
Thereby  to  please  my  neighbor ;  no,  not  I, 
I  did  it  mine  own  self  to  gratify. 

Neither  did  I  but  vacant  seasons  spend 
In  this  my  scribble  ;  nor  did  I  intend 
But  to  divert  myself  in  doing  this, 
From  worse;  thoughts,  which  made  me  do  amiss. 

Thus  I  set  pen  to  paper  with  delight, 
And  quickly  had  my  thoughts  in  black  and  white, 
For  having  now  my  method  by  the  end, 
Still  as  I  pull'd  it  came  ;  and  so  I  penn'd 
It  down,  until  at  last  it  came  to  be, 
Foi  length  and  breadth,  the  bigness  which  you  see. 

Well,  whe/i  I  had  put  my  ends  together, 
I  shew'd  them  others,  tftat  I  might  see  whether 


32 

Tbey  would  condemn  ihem,  or  them  justify  : 
And  some  said,  Let  him  live  ;  some,  let  him  die  j 
Some  said,  John,  print  it  ;  others  said,  Not  so. 
Some  said,  It  might  do  good  ;  others  said,  No. 

Now  I  was  in  a  strait,  and  did  not  see 
Which  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  by  me  : 
At  last  I  thought,  since  you  are  thus  divided, 
I  print  it  will  ;  and  so  the  case  decided. 

For,  thought  I,  some  I  see,  would  have  it  done, 
Though  others  in  that  channel  do  not  run  : 
To  prove  then  who  advised  for  the  best, 
Thus  I  thought  fit  to  put  it  to  the  test. 
I  farther  thought,  if  now  I  did  deny 
Those  that  would  have  it,  thus  to  gratify, 
I  did  not  know,  but  hinder  them  I  might 
Of  that  which  would  to  them  be  great  delight  : 
For  those  which  were  not  for  its  coming  forth, 
I  said  to  them,  Offend  you  I  am  loth ; 
Yet  since  your  brethren  pleased  with  it  be, 
Forbear  to  judge  'till  you  do  farther  see. 

If  that  you  would  not  read,  let  it  alone  : 
Some  love  the  meat,  some  love  to  pick  a  bone. 
Yea,  that  I  might  them  better  moderate, 
I  did  too  with  them  thus  expostulate : 

May  I  not  write  in  such  a  style  as  this  ? 
In  such  a  method  too,  and  yet  not  miss 
My  end,  thy  good  ?  Why  may  it  not  be  done  ? 
Dark  clouds  bring  waters,  when  the  bright  bring  none* 
Yea,  dark  or  bright,  if  they  their  silver  drops 
Cause  to  descend,  the  earth,  by  yielding  crops, 
Gives  praise  to  both,  and  carpeth  not  at  either, 
But  treasures  up  the  fruit  they  yield  together  : 
Yea,  so  commixes  both,  that  in  their  fruit 
None  can  distinguish  this  from  t^at ;  they  suit 
Her  well,  when  hungry  ;  but  if  she  be  full, 
She  spews  out  both,  and  makes  their  blessings  null. 

You  see  the  ways  the  fisherman  doth  take 
To  catch  the  fish  :  what  engines  doth  he  make  ? 
Behold  !  how  he  engageth  all  his  wits  ; 
Also  his  snares,  lines,  angles,  hooks,  and  nets : 
Yet  fish  there  be,  that  neither  hook  nor  line, 


THE   AUTHOR'S    APOLOOr.  33 

Nor  snares,  nor  net,  nor  engine  can  make  thine  : 
They  must  be  grop'd  for,  and  be  tickled  too, 
Or  they  will  not  be  catch'd,  whate'er  you  do. 

How  does  the  fowler  seek  to  catch  his  game 
By  divers  means  ?  AH  which  one  cannot  name  : 
His  gun,  his  nets,  his  lime  twigs,  light  and  bell  : 
He  creeps,  he  goes,  he  stands  :  yea  who  can  tell 
Of  all  his  postures  ?  yet  there's  none  ofthese 
W  ill  make  him  master  of  what  fowls  he  please, 
Yea,  he  must  pipe  and  whistle,  to  catch  this ; 
Yet,  if  he  does  so,  that  bird  he  will  miss. 
If  that  a  pearl  may  on  a  toad's  head  dwell, 
And  may  be  found  too  in  an  oyster-shell  ; 
If  things  that  promise  nothing,  do  contain 
What  better  is  than  gold ;  who  will  disdain, 
That  have  an  inkling  of  it,  thereto  look 
That  they  may  find  it !  Now  my  little  book 
(Tho'  void  of  all  these  paintings  that  they  make 
It  with  this  or  the  other  man  to  take) 
Is  not  without  these  things  that  do  exceL 
What  do  in  brave,  but  empty  notions  dwell. 

Well,  yet  I  am  not  fully  satisfied, 
That  this  your  book  will  stand,  when  soundly  tried. 
Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  It  is  dark  :  What  though  1 
But  it  is  feigned  :  What  of  that  ?  I  trow, 
Some  men,  by  feigned  words  as  dark  as  mine, 
Make  truth  to  spangle,  and  its  rays  to  shine  ! 
But  they  want  soiidness  :  Speak,  man,  thy  mind  : 
They  drown  the  weak  ;  metaphors  makers  blind. 

Solidity,  indeed,  becomes  the  pen 
Of  him  that  writeth  things  divine  to  men  : 
But  must  I  needs  want  soiidness,  because 
By  metaphors  I  speak  ?  Were  not  God's  laws, 
His  gospel  laws,  in  older  times  held  forth 
By  shadows,  types,  and  metaphors  ?  Yet  loth 
Will  any  sober  man  be  to  find  fault 
With  them,  lest  he  be  found  for  to  sssault 
The  highest  wisdom  :  No ;  he  rather  stoops, 
And  seeks  to  find  out  what  by  pins  and  loops, 
By  calves  and  sheep, by  heifers  and  by  rams, 
By  birds  and  herbs,  and  by  the  blood  of  Iambs, 


34 

God  speaketh  to  him ;  and  full  happy  he 
That  finds  the  light  and  grace  that  in  them  be  ! 
Be  not  too  forward  therefore  to  conclude 
That  I  want  solidness  ;  that  I  am  rude : 
All  things  solid  in  show,  not  solid  be  ; 
All  things  in  parables  despise  not  we  ; 
Lest  things  most  hurtful  lightly  we  receive, 
And  things  that  good  are,  of  our  souls  bereave. 
My  dark  and  cloudy  words  they  do  but  hold 
The  truth,  as  cabinets  enclose  the  gold. 

The  prophets  used  much  by  metaphors 
T  i  set  forth  truth  ;  yea,  who  so  considers 
Christ,  his  apostles  too,  shall  plainly  see, 
That  truths  to  this  day  in  such  mantles  be. 

I  am  afraid  to  say  that  Holy  Writ, 
Which  for  its  style  and  phrase  puts  down  all  wit, 
Is  every  where  so  full  of  all  these  things, 
(Dark  figures,  allegories)  yet  there  springs 
From  that  same  book,  that  lustre,  and  those  rays 
Of  light,  that  turn  our  darkest  nights  to  days. 

Come,  let  my  carper  to  his  life  now  look, 
And  find  there  darker  lines  than  in  my  Bools 
H :  findeth  any  :  yea,  and  let  him  know 
That  in  his  best  things  there  are  worse  lines  too. 

May  we  but  stand  before  impartial  men, 
To  his  poor  one  I  dare  adventure  ten, 
That  they  will  take  my  meaning  in  these  lines, 
Far  better  than  his  lies  in  silver  shrines. 
Come,     Truth,  although  in  swadSing  clouts,  1  find, 
Informs  the  judgment,  rectifies  the  mind ; 
Pleases  the  understanding,  makes  the  will 
Submit,  the  memory  also  it  doth  fill 
With  what  doth  our  imagination  please  ; 
Likewise  it  tends  our  troubles  to  appease. 

Sound  words,  I  know,  Timothy  is  to  use, 
And  old  wives'  fables  he  is  to  refuse ; 
But  yet  grave  Paul  him  no  where  did  forbid 
The  use  of  parables  ;  in  which  lay  hid 
That  gold,  those  pearls,  and  precious  stones  that  were 
Worth  digging  for  and  that  with  greatest  care. 


THE    AUTHOR'S    APOLOGY.  35 

Let  me  add  one  word  more  :  O  man  of  God, 
Art  thou  offended  ?  Dost  thou  wish  I  had 
Put  forth  my  matter  in  another  dress  ? 
Or,  that  I  had  in  things  been  more  express  ? 
To  those  that  are  my  betters,  as  is  fit, 
Three  things  let  me  propound,  then  I  submit  : 

1 .  I  find  not  that  I  am  denied  the  -use 
Of  this  method,  so  I  do  not  abuse 

Put  on  the  words,  things,  readers,  or  be  rude 
In  handling  figure  or  similitude, 
In  application ;  but  all  that  I  may 
Seek  the  advance  of  truth  this  or  that  way. 
Denied,  did  I  say  ?  Nay,  I  have  leave 
(Examples  too,  and  that  from  them  that  have 
Gon  better  pleased,  by  their  words  or  ways, 
Than  any  man  that  breathes  now  in  our  days) 
Thus  to  express  my  mind,  thus  to  declare 
Things  unto  thee  that  excellentest  are. 

2.  I  find  that  men  (as  high  as  trees)  will  write 
Dialogue  ways  ;  yet  no  man  doth  them  slight 
For  writing  so :  indeed,  if  they  abuse 

Truth,  cursed  be  they,  and  the  craft  they  use 
To  that  intent ;  but  yet  let  truth  be  free 
To  make  her  sallies  upon  thee  and  me, 
Which  way  it  pleases  God  ;  for  who  knowsJiow, 
Better  than  he  who  taught  us  first  to  plow, 
To  guide  our  minds  and  pens  for  his  design  ? 
And  he  makes  base  things  usher  in  divine. 

3.  I  find  that  Holy  Writ,  in  many  places, 

Hath  semblance  with  this  method,  where  the  cases 
Do  call  for  one  thing  to  set  forth  another  : 
Use  it  I  may  then,  and  yet  nothing  smother 
Truth's  golden  beams  ;  nay,  by  this  method  may 
Make  it  cast  forth  its  rays  as  light  as  day. 

And  now,  before  I  do  put  up  my  pen, 
I'll  shew  the  profit  of  my  book,  and  then 
Commit  botrf  thee  and  it  into  that  hand,  f^stand. 

That  pulls  the  strong   down,  and  makes   weak  ones 

This  book,  it  chalketh  out  before  thine  eyes 
The  man  that  seeks  the  everlasting  prize  : 
It  shews  you  whence  he  comes,  whither  he  goes ; 


36  THE    AUTHOR'S    APOLOGT. 

What  he  leaves  undone,  also  what  he  does  ; 
It  shews  you  how  he  runs  and  runs 
Till  he  unto  the  gate  of  glory  comes. 

It  shews,  too,  who  set  out  for  life  amain, 
As  if  the  lasting  crown  they  would  obtain  : 
Here  also  you  may  see  the  reason  why 
They  lose  their  labor  and  like  fools  do  die. 

This  book  will  make  a  traveller  of  thee, 
If  by  its  counsel  thou  wilt  ruled  be  ; 
It  will  direct  thee  to  the  holy  land, 
If  thou  wilt  its  directions  understand  : 
Yea,  it  will  make  the  slothful  active  be  ; 
The  blind  also  delightful  things  to  see. 

Art  thou  for  something  rare  and  profitable  ? 
Or  wouldst  thou  see  a  truth  without  a  fable  ? 
Art  thou  forgetful  ?  Or  wouldst  thou  remember 
From  new-year's  day  to  the  last  of  December  ? 
Then  read  my  fancies  ;  they  will  stick  like  burs4 
And  may  be  to  the  helpless,  comforters. 

This  book  is  wrote  in  such  a  dialect, 
As  may  the  minds  of  listless  men  affect : 
It  seems  a  novelty,  and  yet  contains 
Nothing  but  sound  and  honest  gospel  strains. 

Wouldst  thou  divert  thy  self  from  melancholy  ? 
Wouldst  thou  be  pleasant,  yet  be  far  from  folly  ? 
Wouldst  thou  read  riddles,  and  their  explanation  ? 
Or  else  be  drowned  in  my  contemplation  1 
Dost  thou  love  picking  meat  ?  or  wouldst  thou  see 
A  man  i'  th'  clouds,  and  hear  him  speak  to  thee  ? 
Wouldst  thou  be  in  a  dream,  and  yet  not  sleep  ? 
Or,  wouldst  thou  in  a  moment  laugh  and  weep  ? 
Or,  wouldst  thou  lose  thyself,  and  catch  no  harm  ; 
And  find  thyself  again  without  a  charm  ? 
Wouldst  read  thyself,  and  read  thou  know'st  not  what. 
And  yet  know  whether  thou  art  bless'd  or  not, 
By  reading  the  same  lines  ?  O  then  come  hither 
Aid  lay  mv  book,  thy  head,  an  J  heart,  together. 

JOHN  BUNYAN. 


THE 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

PART  !. 

WHEREIN   IS    DISCOVERED, 

i.    THE    MANNER    OF    HIS   SETTING    OUT. 
II.    HIS    DANGEROUS    JOURNEY,    AND 
II r.    HIS   SAFE    ARRIVAL    AT    THE    DESIRED    COUNTRY. 


AS  I  walked  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,  I 
lighted  on  a  certain  place  where  was  a  den,  and  laid  me 
down  in  that  place  to  sleep  ;  and  as  I  slept  I  dreamed  a 
dream.  I  dreamed ;  and,  behold,  'Isawa  man  clothed 
with  rags,  standing  in  a  certain  place,  with  his  face  from 
his  own  house,  a  book  in  his  hand,  and  a  great  burden 
upon  his  back.'*  I  looked,  and  saw  him  open*  the  book 
and  read  therein  ;  and  as  he  read,  he  wept,  and  trem- 
bled ;  and,  not  being  able  longer  to  contain,  he  brake 
out  with  a  lamentable  cry,  saying  "  What  shall  I  do  ?"f 

In  this  plight  therefore  he  went  home,  and  refrained 
himself  as  long  as  he  could,  that  his  wife  and  children 
should  not  perceive  his  distress ;  but  he  could  not  be 
silent  long,  because  that  his  trouble  increased  :  where- 
fore at  length  he  brake  his  mind  to  his  wife  and  children; 
and  thus  he  began  to  talk  to  them  :  '  O  my  dear  wife,' 
said  he, '  and  you  the  children  of  my  bowels,  I  your  dear 
friend  am  in  myself  undone  by  reason  of  a  burden  that 
Heth  hard  upon  me :  moreover,  I  am  certainly  inform- 
ed that  this  our  city  will  *  be  burned  with  fire  from  hea- 
ven :  in  which  fearful  overthrow,  both  myself,  with  thee 
my  wife,  and  you  my  sweet  babes,  shall  miserably  <*ome 
to  ruin,  except  (th  e  which  yet  I  see  not)  some  way  of 
escape  may  be  found,  whereby  we  may  be  delivered.' 
At  this  his  relations  were  sore  amazed  ;    not  for  that 

*  Isa.  lxiv.  6.    Lake  xiv  33.    Psal.  xxxviii.  4-    Heb,  it,  » 
Actsxvi-  31.    t  Acts  ii.  37* 

D 


38  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

they  believed  that  what  he  had  said  to  them  was  true,  but 
because  they  thought  some  frenzy  distemper  had  got 
into  his  head  ;  therefore,  it  drawing  towards  night,  and 
they  hoping  that  sleep  might  settle  his  brains,  with  all 
haste  they  got  him  to  bed  :  but  the  night  was  as  trouble- 
some to  him  as  the  day  ;  wherefore,  instead  of  sleeping, 
he  spent  it  in  sighs  and  tears.  So  when  the  morning 
was  come  they  would  know  how  he  did  :  he  told  them, 
4  Worse  and  worse*  He  also  set  to  talking  to  them  again, 
but  they  began  to  be  hardened.  They  also  thought  to 
drive  away  his  distemper  by  harsh  and  surly  carriage  to 
him  :  sometimes  they  would  deride,  sometimes  they 
would  chide,  and  sometimes  they  would  quite  neglect 
him.  Wherefore  he  began  to  retire  himself  to  his  cham- 
ber to  pray  for  and  pity  them  ;  and  also  to  condole  his 
own  misery.  He  would  also  walk  solitarily  in  the  fields, 
sometimes  reading,  and  sometimes  praying ;  and  thus 
for  some  days  he  spent  his  time. 

Now  I  saw,  upon  a  time  when  he  was  walking  in  the 
fields, that  he  was  (as  he  was  wont)  reading  in  his  book, 
and  greatly  distressed  in  his  mind  ;  and  as  he  read,  he 
burst  out,  as  he  had  done  before,  crying,  "  What  shall  I 
do  to  be  saved  ?"* 

I  saw  also  that  he  looked  this  way  and  that  way  as  if 
he  would  run  ;  yet  he  stood  still,  because  (as  I  perceiv- 
ed) he  could  not  tell  which  way  to  go.  1  looked  then, 
and  saw  a  man  nr»med  Evangelist  coming  to  him  ;  and 
he  asked,  "  WTherefore  dost  thou  cry  ?" 

He  answered.  Sir,  I  perceive  by  the  book  in  my  hand 
that  I  am  condemned  to  die,  and  after  that  to  come  to 
judgment;  and  I  find  that  I  am  not  willing  to  do  the 
first,  nor  able  to  do  the  seco.id.f 

Then  said  Evangelist,  Why  not  willing  to  die,  since 
this  life  is  attended  with  so  many  evils  ?  The  man  an- 
swered, Because  that  I  fear  that  this  burden  that  is  upon 
my  back  will  sink  me  lower  than  the  grave,  and  I  shall 
fall  into  Tofihtt.\  And,  Sir,  if  I  be  not  fit  to  go  to  prison, 
I  am  not  fit  to  go  to  judgment,  and  from  thence  to  exe- 
cution :  and  the  thoughts  of  these  things  make  me  cry. 

Then  said  Evangelist,  if  this  be  thy  condition,  why 

t  Acts  xvi  30,  31.  f  Heb.  ix  27.  Job  xvi.  21, 22, 

Ezek.  xxii.  14.  \  Isa.  xxx.  33. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  39 

standest  thou  still  1  He  answered,  Because  I  know  not 
whither  to  go.  Then  he  gave  him  a  parchment  roll ; 
and  there  was  written  withfn,  "  Flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come."* 

The  man  therefore  read  it,  and  looking  upon  Evan- 
gelist very  carefully,  said,  >v  hither  must  I  flee  ?  Then 
said  Evangelist,  pointing  -with  his  finger  over  a  very 
wide  field,  Do  you  see  yonder  Wicket- gate  i\  The  man 
said,  No.  Then  said  the  other,  Do  you  see  yonder  shi- 
ning lights  He  said,  I  think  I  do.  Then  said  Evange- 
list, Keep  that  light  in  your  eye,  and  go  up  directly 
thereto,  so  shalt  thou  see  the  gate  ;  at  which,  when  thou 
knockest,  it  shall  be  told  thee  what  thou  shalt  do. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  man  began  to  run. 
Now  he  had  not  run  far  from  his  own  door,  but  his  wife 
and  children  (perceiving  it)  began  to  cry  after  him  to  re- 
turn ;§  but  the  man  put  his  fingers  in  his  ears,  and  ran 
on,  crying,  -  Life  !  life  !  eternal  life !'  So  he  looked  not 
behind  him,U  but  fled  towards  the  middle  of  the  plain. 

The  neighbors  also  came  out  to  see  him  run  :  and, 
as  he  ran,  some  mocked,  others  threatened,  and  some 
cried  after  him  to  return  ;  and  amon^  those  that  did  so 
there  were  two  that  were  resolved  to  fetch  him  back  by 
force.  The  name  of  one  was  Obstinate,  and  the  name 
of  the  other  Pliable.  Now  by  this  time  the  man  was 
got  a  good  distance  from  them  ;  but  however  they  were 
resolved  to  pursue  him  ;  which  they  did,  and  in  a  little 
time  they  overtook  him.  Then  said  the  man,  Neighbors, 
wherefore  are  ye  come  ?|They  said,  To  persuade  you  to 
go  back  with  us;  but  he  said,  That  can  by  no  means  be; 
you  dwell,  said  he,  in  the  city  of  Destruction;  the  place 
also  where  I  was  born.  I  see  it  to  be  so;  and  dying 
there,  sooner  or  later,  you  will  sink  lower  than  the 
grave  into  a  place  that  burns  with  fire  and  brimstone  : 
be  content,  good  neighbors,  and  go  along  with  me. 

What,  said  Obstinate,  and  leave  our  friends  and  our 
comforts  behind  us  ! 

Yes,  said  Christian,  (for  that  was  his  name)  because 
that  all  which  you  shall  forsake  is  not  worthy  to  be  com- 

*  Matt.  iii.  7.      t  Matt.  vii.  13,  14.      \  Psal  cxix.  105. 
2  Pet.  i.  19,  §  Luke  xiv.  26.  y  Geu.  xix.  17.  2  Cor.  ir,  IS. 


40  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

pared  with  a  little  of  that  that  I  am  seeking  to  enjoy  ; 
and  if  you  will  go  along  with  me,  and  hold  it,  you 
shall  fare  as  1  myself;  for  there  where  I  go  is  enough 
and  to  spare  :*  come  away  and  prove  my  words. 

Obst.  What  are  the  things  you  seek,  since  you  leave 
all  the  world  to  find  them  ? 

Chr.  I  seek  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
and  "  that  fadeth  not  away  ;  and  it  is  laid  up  in  heav- 
en,"t  and  sale  there,  to  be  bestowed  at  the  time  ap- 
pointed on  them  that  diligently  seek  it.  Read  it  so,  if 
you  will,  in  my  book. 

Tush,  said  Obstinate,  away  with  your  book  :  will  you 
go  back  with  us  or  no  ? 

No,  not  I,  said  the  other,  because  I  have  laid  my  hand 
to  the  plough.J 

Ob&t.  Come,  then,  neighbor  Pliable,  let  us  turn  again 
and  go  home  without  him  :  there  is  a  company  of  these 
crazy-headed  coxcombs,  that  when  they  take  a  fancy  by 
the  end,  are  wiser  in  their  own  eyes  than  seven  men 
that  render  a  reason. 

Then  said  Pliable,  Don't  revile  ;  if  what  the  good 
Christian  says  is  true,  the  things  he  looks  after  are  bet- 
ter than  ours ;  my  heart  inclines  to  go  with  my  neigh- 
bor. 

Obst.  What !  more  fool  still  ?  be  ruled  by  me,  and 
go  back  ;  who  knows  whither  such  a  brain-sick  fellow 
will  lead  you  ?  Go  back,  go  back,  be  wise. 

Chr.  Nay,  but  do  thou  come  with  thy  neighbor  Plia- 
ble ;  there  are  such  things  to  be  had  which  1  spake  of, 
and  many  more  glories  besides  :  if  you  believe  not  me, 
read  here  in  this  book  ;  and,  for  the  truth  of  what  is  ex- 
pressed therein,  behold,  all  is  confirmed  by  the  blood  of 
him  that  made  it  § 

Well,  neighbor  Obstinate,  saith  Pliable,  I  begin  to 
come  to  a  point :  I  intend  to  go  along  with  this  good 
man,  and  to  cast  in  my  lot  with  him  :  but  my  good  com- 
panion, do  you  know  the  way  to  this  desired  place  ? 

Chr.  1  am  directed  by  a  man,  whose  name  is  Evan- 
gelist, to  speed  me  to  a  little  gate  that  is  before  us, 
where  we  shall  receive  instructions  about  the  way. 

*  Luke  xv.  17.  f  1  Pet.  !.  4—6-     Heb.  xi.  6,  16. 

J  Luke  U.  62.  \  Heb.  is.  17—22. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  41 


Pli  Come,  then,  good  neighbor,  let  us  be  going. 
Then  they  both  went  together. 

And  I  will  go  back  to  my  place,  said  Obstinate :  I 
will  be  no  companion  of  such  misled  fantastical  fellows. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  when  Obstinate  was 
gone  back,  Christian  and  Pliable  went  talking  over  the 
plain  :  and  thus  they  began  their  discourse  : 

Chr.  Come,  neighbor  Pliable,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  am 
glad  you  are  persuaded  to  go  along  with  me  ;  had  even 
Obstinate  himself  but  felt  what  I  have  felt  of  the  pow- 
ers and  terrors  of  what  is  yet  unseen,  he  would  not  thus 
lightly  have  given  us  the  back. 

Pli.  Come,  neighbor  Christian,  since  there  are  none 
but  us  two  here,  tell  me  now  further,  what  the  things 
are,  and  how  to  be  enjoyed,  whither  we  are  going. 

Chr.  I  can  better  conceive  of  them  with  my  mind  than 
speak  of  them  with  my  tongue :  but  yet,  since  you  are 
desirous  to  know,  I  will  read  of  them  in  my  book.     , 

Pli.  And  do  you  think  that  the  words  of  your  book 
are  certainly  true  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  verily,  for  it  was  made  by  him  that  cannot 
lie.* 

Pli.  Well  said  ;  what  things  are  they  ? 

Chr.  There  is  an  endless  kingdom  to  be  inhabited, 
and  everlasting  life  to  be  given  us  that  we  may  inhabit 
that  kingdom  for  ever.f 

Pli.     Well  said,  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  are  crowns  of  glory  to  be  given  us ;  and 
garments  that  will  make  us  shine  like  the  sun  in  the  fir- 
mament of  heaven.4 

Pli.  This  is  very  pleasant ;  and  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  shall  be  no  more  crying  nor  sorrow  ;  for 
he  that  is  owner  of  the  place  will  wipe  all  tears  from 
our  eyes.§ 

Pli.     And  what  company  shall  we  have  there  ? 

Chr.  There  we  shall  be  with  seraphims  and  chem- 
bims,  creatures  that  will  dazzle  your  eyes  to  look  on 
them.ll  There  also  you  shall  meet  with  thousands  and 
ten  thousands  that  have  gone  before  us  to  that  place  : 

*Tit.  i.  2.     flsa.  xlv.  17.    John  x.  27— 29.    \  2  Tim.  4  8" 
Rev.  xxii.  6.     Matt.  xiii.  43.  $  Isa.  xxv.  8* 

Rev.  vii.  16,  17.  xxi.  4.    ||  Isa.  vi.  2.    1  Thes  iv.  1%  17* 
D  2 


42  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

none  of  them  are  hurtful,  but  loving  and  holy ;  every  one 
talking  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  standing  in  his  presence 
with  acceptance  for  ever.  In  a  word,  there  we  shall 
see  the  elders  with  their  golden  crowns,*  there  we  shall 
see  holy  virgins  with  their  golden  harps  ;f  there  we 
shall  see  men  that  by  the  world  were  cut  in  pieces, 
burnt  in  flames,  eaten  ot  beasts,  drowned  in  the  seas,  for 
the  love  that  they  bare  to  the  Lord  of  the  place,  as  well, 
and  clothed  with  immortality  as  with  a  garment.} 

Plu  The  hearing  of  this  is  enough  to  ravish  one's 
heart :  but  are  these  things  to  be  enjoyed  ?  how  shall 
We  get  to  be  sharers  thereof? 

Chr.  The  Lord,  the  governor  of  the  country,  hath 
recorded  that  in  this  book,  the  substance  of  which  is,  if 
we  be  truly  willing  to  have  it,  he  will  bestow  it  upon  us 
freely.  J 

Pli.  Well,  my  good  companion,  glad  am  I  to  hear  of 
these  things  :  come  on,  let  us  mend  our  pace. 

Chr.  I  cannot  go  so  fast  as  I  would,  by  reason  of  this 
burden  that  is  on  my  back. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  as  they  had  ended 
this  talk,  they  drew  nigh  to  a  very  miry  slough  that 
Was  in  the  midst  of  the  plain,  and  they  being  heedless 
did  both  fall  suddenly  into  the  bog.  The  name  of  the 
slough  was  Despond.  Here  therefore  they  wallowed 
for  a  time,  being  grievously  bedaubed  with  dirt ;  and 
Christian,  because  of  the  burden  that  was  on  his  back, 
began  to  sink  in  the  mire. 

Then  said  Pliable,  Ah  I  neighbor  Christian,  where 
are  you  now  ? 

Truly,  said  Christian,  I  do  not  know. 
At  that  Pliable  began  to  be  offended,  and  angrily  said 
to  his  fellow,  Is  this  the  happiness  you  have  told  me  all 
this  while  of?  If  we  have  such  ill  speed  at  our  first  set- 
ting out,  what  may  we  expect  betwixt  this  and  our  jour- 
ney's end  ?  May  I  get  out  again  with  my  life,  you  shall 
possess  the  brave  country  alone  for  roe*  And  with  that 
he  gave  a  desperate  struggle  or  two,  and  got  out  of  the 
mire  on  that  side  of  the  slough  which  was  next  his  own 

*Rev.iv.4.  fRev.xiv  1— 5.  J Johnxii.25.  2Cor.  v.  2— 4 
(  ha,  te\  i_3,   John  ?i.  37.  vii.  37.    Rev.  mi.  6.  xxii.  17. 


THE    PILGRIM^    PROGRESS.  43 

house  :  so  away  he  went,  and  Christian  saw^iim  no 
more. 

Wherefore  Christian  was  left  totumhle  in  the  slough 
of  Despond  alone;  but  still  he  endeavored  to  struggle 
to  that  side  of  the  slough  which  was  farthest  from  his 
own  house,  and  next  to  the  Wicket-gate  :  the  which  he 
did,  but  could  not  get  out  because  of  the  burden  that 
was  upon  his  back.  But  I  behekl,  in  my  dream,  that  a 
man  oame  to  him,  whose  name  was  Help,  and  asked 
him,  What  he  did  there  ? 

Sir,  said  Christian,  I  was  bid  to  go  this  way  by  a  man 
called  Evangelist,  who  directed  me  also  to  yonder  gate, 
that  I  might  escape  the  wr?th  to  come  ;  and  as  1  was 
going  thither  I  fell  in  here. 

Helfi.  But  why  did  you  not  look  for  the  steps  ? 

Chr.  Fear  followed  me  so  hard,  that  I  fled  the  next 
way,  and  so  fell  in. 

Helfi.  Then  said  he,  Give  me  thine  hand  :  so  he  gave 
him  his  hand,  and  he  drew  him  out  and  set  him  upon 
Sound  ground,   and  bid  him  goon  his  way.* 

Then  I  stepped  to  him  that  plucked  him  out,  and 
said,  Sir,  wherefore,  ^ince  over  this  place  is  the  way 
from  the  city  of  Destruction  to  yonder  gate,  is  it  that 
this  plat  is  not  mended,  that  poor  travellers  mit.*  t  go 
thither  with  more  security  ?  And  he  said  unlo  me,  This 
miry  slough  is  such  a  place  as  cannot  be  mended  :  it  is 
the  descent  whither  the  scum  and  filth  that  attends  con- 
viction for  sin  doth  continually  run,  and  therefore  it  was 
called  the  slough  of  Despond  :  for  still,  as  the  sinner  is 
awakened  about  his  lost  condition,  there  arise  in  his  soul 
many  fears  and  doubts,  and  discouraging  apprehensions, 
which  all  of  them  get  together,  and  settle  in  this  place  : 
And  this  is  the  reason  of  the  badness  of  the  ground. 

It  is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  king  that  this  place  should 
remain  so  bad,f  his  labourers  also  have,  by  the  direction 
of  his  majesty's  surveyors,  been  for  above  these  sixteen 
hundred  years  employed  about  this  patch  of  ground,  if 
perhaps  it  might  have  been  mended;  yea,  and  to  rny 
knowledge,  said  he,  here  have  been  swallowed  up  at 
least  twenty  thousand  cart-loads ;  yea,  millions  of  whole- 

*Psal.xl.2.  flsa.  xxxv.  3. 


44 

some  injunctions,  that  have  at  all  seasons  been  brought 
from  all  places  of  the  king's  dominions  (and  they  that 
can  tell,  say,  they  are  the  best  materials  to  make  good 
the  ground  of  the  place)  if  so  be  it  might  have  been 
mended  :  but  it  is  the  slough  of  Despond  still  ;  and  so 
will  be,  when  they  have  done  what  they  can. 

True  there  are,  by  the  direction  of  the  law-giver,  cer- 
tain good  and  substantial  steps  placed  even  through  the 
very  midst  of  this  slough  ;  but  at  such  times  as  this 
place  does  much  spew  out  its  filth,  as  it  doth  against 
change  of  leather,  these  steps  are  hardly  seen  ;  or  if 
they  be,  men  through  the  dizziness  of  their  heads  step 
beside;  and  then  they  are  bemired  to  purpose,  notwith- 
standing the  steps  be  there  :  but  the  ground  is  good 
when  they  are  once  got  to  the  gate.* 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  Pliable 
was  got  home  to  his  house.  So  his  neighbors  came  to 
visit  him ;  and  some  of  them  called  him  wise  man  for 
coming  back  ;  and  some  called  him  fool  for  hazarding 
himself  with  Christian :  others  again  did  mock  at  his 
cowardliness,  saying,  "  Surely,  since  you  began  to  ven- 
ture, I  would  not  have  been  so  base  to  have  given  out 
for  a  few  difficulties  :"  so  Pliable  sat  sneaking  among 
them.  But  at  last  he  got  more  confidence  ;  and  then 
they  all  turned  their  tales,  and  began  to  deride  poor 
Christian  behind  his  back.  And  thus  much  concerning 
Pliable. 

Now  as  Christian  was  walking  solitarily  by  himself,  he 
spied  one  afar  off  crossing  over  the  field  to  meet  him  ; 
and  their  hap  was  to  meet  just  as  they  were  crossing  the 
way  to  each  other.  The  gentleman's  name  that  met  him, 
was  Mr.  Worldly -wiseman  ;  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of 
Carnal-policy ;  a  very  great  town,  and  also  hard  by  from 
whence  Christian  came.  This  man,  then,  meeting  with 
Christian,  and  having  some  inkling  of  him  (for  Chris- 
tian's setting  forth  from  the  city  of  Destruction  was 
much  noised  abroad,  not  only  in  the  town  where  he 
dwelt,  but  also  it  began  to  be  the  town-talk  in  some 
other  places)  Mr.  Worldly- wiseman,  therefore,  having 
some  guess  of  him  by  beholding  his  laborious  going,  by 

*  1  Sam.  xii.  22. 


45 

observing  his  sighs  and  groans,  and  the  like,  began  thus 
to  enter  into  some  talk  with  Christian  : 

World.  How  now,  good  fellow,  whither  away  after 
this  burdened  manner  ? 

Chr.  A  burdened  manner  indeed,  as  ever,  I  think, 
poor  creature  had  !  And  whereas  you  asked  me  whither 
away  ?  I  tell  you  Sir,  I  am  going  to  yonder  wicket-gate 
before  me  ;  for  there,  as  I  am  informed,  I  shall  be  put 
in  a  way  to  be  rid  of  my  heavy  burden. 

World.  Hast  thou. a  wife  and  children  ? 

Chr.  Yes-,  but  I  am  so  laden  witli  this  burden,  that 
I  cannot  take  the  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly  :  me- 
thinks  I  am  as  if  I  had  none.* 

World,  Wilt  thou  hearken  to  me  if  I  give  thee  coun- 
sel ? 

Chr.  If  it  be  goody  I  will  hear  it;  for  Ijstand  in  need 
of  good  counsej. 

World.  I  would  advise  thee,  then,  that  thou  with  all 
speed  get  thyself  rid  of  thy  burden  :  for  thou  wilt  never 
be  settled  in  thy  mind  till  then,  nor  canst  thou  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  the  blessings  which  God  hath  bestowed 
upon  thee  till  then. 

Chr.  That  is  that  which  I  seek  for,  even  to  be  rid  of 
this  heavy  burden  ;  but  get  it  off  myself  I  cannot ;  nor 
is  there  any  man  in  our  countiy  that  can  take  it  off  my 
shoulders  :  therefore  am  I  going  this  way,  as  I  told  you, 
that  I  may  be  rid  of  my  burden. 

World.  Who  bid  you  go  this  way  to  be  rid  of  your 
burden  ? 

Chr.  A  man  that  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  very  great 
and  honorable  person  ;  his  name,  as  I  remember,  is  E- 
vangelist. 

World.  Beshrew  him  for  his  counsel  ;  there  is  not  a 
more  dangerous  and  troublesome  way  in  the  world  than 
is  that  unto  which  he  hath  directed  thee  ;  and  that  thou 
shalt  find  if  thou  wilt  be  ruled  by  his  counsel.  Thou 
hast  met  with  something,  as  I  perceive,  already  ;  fcr  I 
see  the  dirt  of  the  slough  of  Despond  is  upon  thee  ;  but 
that  slough  is  the  beginning  of  the  sorrows  that  do  at- 
tend those  that  go  on  in  that  way.  Hear  me  ;  I  am  ol- 
der than  thou  ;  thou  art  like  to  meet  with,  on  that  way 

*  1  Cor.  vii.  29. 


46 

which  thou  goest,  weaiisomeness,  painfulness,  hunger, 
perils,  nakedness,  swords,  lions,  dragons,  darkness,  and, 
in  a  word,  death,  and  what  nol!  These  things  are  cer- 
tainly true,  having  been  confirmed  by  many  testimonies. 
And  why  should  a  man  so  carelessly  cast  away  himself 
by  giving  heed  to  a  s' : ranger  I 

Chr.  Why,  Sir,  this  burden  upon  my  back  is  more 
terrible  to  me  than  are  all  these  things  which  you  have 
mentioned :  nay,  methinks  I  care  not  what  I  meet  with 
in  my  way,  if  bo  be  I  can  also  meet  with  deliverance 
from  my  burden. 

World.  How  earnest  thou  by  the  burden  at  first  ? 

Chr.  By  reading  thib  book  in  my  hand. 

World.  I  thought  so  ;  and  it  has  happened  unto  thee 
as  to  other  weak  men,  who,  meddling  with  things  too 
high  for  them,  do  suddenly  fall  into  thy  distractions  ; 
which  distractions  do  not  only  unman  men  (as  thine  I 
perceive  have  done  thee)  but  they  run  them  upon 
desperate  adventures  to  obtain  they  know  not  what. 

Chr.  I  know  what  I  would  obtain  :  it  is  ease  from 
my  heavy  burden. 

World.  But  why  wilt  thou  seek  for  ease  this  way, 
seeing  so  many  dangers  attend  it  ?  Especially,  since, 
hadsl  thou  but  patience  to  hear  me,  I  could  direct  thee 
to  the  obtaining  of  what  thou  desirest,  without  the  dan- 
gers that  thou  in  this  way  wilt  run  thyself  into.  Yea, 
and  the  remedy  is  at  hand.  Besides,  1  will  add,  that  in- 
stead of  these  dangers  thou  shalt  meet  with  much  safe- 
ty, friendship,  and  content. 

Chr.  Sir,  pray  open  this  secret  to  me. 

World.  Why,  in  yonder  village  (the  village  is  named 
Morality)  there  dwells  a  gentleman,  whose  name  is 
Legality,  a  very  judicious  man,  and  a  man  of  very  good 
name,  that  has  skill  to  help  men  oFf  with  such  burdens 
as  thine  is  from  their  shoulders;  yea,  to  my  knowledge, 
he  hath  done  a  great  deal  of  good  this  way  :  aye,  and 
besides,  he  hath  skill  to  cure  those  that  are  somewhat 
crazed  in  their  wits  with  their  burdens.  To  him,  as  I 
said,  thou  mayest  go,  and  be  helped  presently.  His 
house  is  not  quite  a  mile  from  this  place ;  and  if  he 
should  not  be  at  home  himself,  he  bath  a  pretty  young 
man  for  his  son,  whose  name  is  Civility,  that  can  do  it 
(to  speak  on)  as  well  ns  the  old  gentleman  himself. 


THE    PILGRIM^    PROGRESS.  47 

There,  I  say,  thou  may  est  be  eased  of  thy  burden  :  and 
if  thou  art  not  minded  to  go  back  to  thy  former  habita- 
tion, as  indeed  I  would  not  wish  thee,  thou  mayest  send 
for  thy  wile  and  children  to  thee  to  this  village;  where 
there  are  houses  now  standing  empty,  one  of  whit  h  thou 
mayest  have  at  reasonable  rates  :  provision  is  there  al- 
so cheap  and  good  :  and  that  which  will  make  thy  life 
more  happy  is,  to  be  sure  there  thou  shalt  live  by  hon- 
est neighbors,  in  credit  and  good  fashion. 

Now  Christian  was  somewhat  at  a  stand  ;  but  pre- 
sently he  concluded,  If  this  be  true  what  this  gentle- 
man hath  said,  my  wisest  course  is  to  take  his  advice  ; 
and  with  that  he  thus  further  spake. 

Chr.  Sir,  which  is  my  way  to  this  honest  man's 
house  ? 

World.  Do  you  see  yonder  high  hill  ? 
Chr.  Yes,  very  well. 

World.  By  that  hill  you  must  go,  and  the  first  house 
you  come  at  is  his. 

So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr.  Le- 
gality's house  for  help.  But,  behold,  when  he  was  got 
hard  by  the  hill,  it  seemed  so  high,  and  also  that  side  of 
it  that  was  next  to  the  way- side  did  hang  so  much  over, 
that  Christian  was  afraid  to  venture  further,  lest  the  hill 
should  fall  on  his  head  :  wherefore  there  he  stood  still, 
and  wotted  not  what  to  do.  Also  his  burden  now  seem- 
ed heavier  to  him  than  while  he  was  in  his  way. 
There  came  also  flashes  of  fire  out  of  the  hill,  that  made 
Christian  afraid  that  he  should  be  burned  :*  here  there- 
fore he  sweat  and  did  quake  for  fear.  And  now  he  be- 
gan to  be  sorry  that  he  had  taken  Mr.  Worldly-wise- 
man's  counsel.  And  with  that  he  saw  Evangelist  com- 
ing to  meet  him  ;  at  the  sight  also  of  whom  he  began 
to  blush  for  shame.  So  Evangelist  drew  nearer  and 
nearer  ;  and,  coming  up  to  him,  he  looked  upon  him 
with  a  severe  and  dreadful  countenance,  and  thus  began 
to  reason  with  Christian. 

What  dost  thou  *here,  Christian  ?  said  he.  At  which 
words  Christian  knew  not  what  to  answer ;  wherefore 
at  present  he  stood  speechless  before  him.    Then  said 

*  Kxod.  six.  16—18.    Heb.  xii.  21. 


48  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Evangelist  further,  Art  thou  not  the  man  that  I  found 
crying  without  the  walls  of  the  city  of  Destruction  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  dear  Sir,  I  am  the  man. 

Evan.  Did  not  I  direct  thee  the  way  to  the  little 
wicket-gate  ? 

Yes,  dear  Sir,  said  Christian. 

Evan.  How  is  it  then  that  thou  art  so  quickly  turned 
aside  ?  for  thou  art  now  out  of  the  way. 

Chr.  I  met  with  a  gentleman  as  soon  as  I  had  got 
over  the  slough  of  Despond,  who  persuaded  me  that  I 
might  in  the  village  before  me  find  a  man  that  could 
ake  off  my  burden. 

Evan.  What  was  he  ? 

Chr.  He  looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  talked  much 
to  me,  and  got  me  at  last  to  yield  ;  so  I  came  hither  : 
but  when  I  beheld  this  hill,  and  how  it  hangs  over  the 
way,  I  suddenly  madca  stand,  lest  it  should  fall  on  my 
head. 

Evan.  What  said  that  gentleman  to  you  ? 

Chr.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  a  family  :  and  I  told  him. 
But,  said  I,  I  am  so  loaded  with  the  burden  that  is 
on  my  back,  that  I  cannot  take  pleasure  in  them  as  for- 
merly. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chr.  He  bid  me  with  speed  get  rid  of  my  burden ; 
and  I  told  him  that  it  was  ease  that  I  sought.  And,  said 
I,  I  am  therefore  going  to  yonder  gate  to  receive  fur- 
ther instruction  how  I  may  get  to  the  place  of  deliver- 
ance. So  he  said  that  he  would  show  me  a  better  way, 
and  shorter,  not  so  attended  with  difficulties  as  the  way, 
Sir,  that  you  set  me  in ;  which  way,  said  he,  will  direct 
you  to  a  gentleman's  house,  that  has  skill  to  take  off 
these  burdens  :  so  I  believed  him,  and  turned  out  of 
that  way  into  this,  if  haply  I  might  be  soon  eased  of  my 
burden.  But  when  I  came  to  this  place,  and  beh<  Id 
things  as  they  are,  I  stopped  for  fear,  as  I  said,  of  dan- 
ger :  but  now  know  not  what  to  do. 

Then,  said  Evangelist,  stand  still  a  little  that  I  may 
show  thee  the  works  of  God.  So  he  stood  trembling. 
Then  said  Evangelist,  "See  that  ye  refuse  not  him  that 
speaketh  :  for  if  they  escaped  not  who  refused  him  that 
spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not  we  escape  if  we 


THK    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  49 

turn  away  from  him  that  speaketh  from  heaven."*  He 
said,  moreover*. M  Now  the  just  shall  live  by  faith  ;  but 
if  any  man  *  draw  back,  my  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure 
inhim."t  He  also  did  thus  apply  them  :  Thou  art  the 
man  that  art  running  into  this  misery  :  thou  hast  begun 
to  reject  the  counsel  of  the  Most  High,  and  to  draw 
back  thy  foot  from  the  way  of  peace  :  even  almost  to 
the  hazarding  of  thy  perdition. 

Then  Christian  fell  down  at  his  feet  as  dead,  crying, 
c<  Wo  is  me,  for  I  am  undone  1"  At  the  sight  of  which 
Evangelist  caught  him  by  the  right  hand,  saying,  "  All 
manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto 
men  :"  "  be  not  faithless,  but  believing."  Then  did 
Christian  again  a  little  revive,  and  stood  up  trembling, 
as  at  first,  before  Evangelist. 

Then  Evangelist  proceeded,  saying,  Give  more  earn- 
est heed  to  the  things  that  I  -hall  tell  thee  of.  I  will 
now  shew  thee  who  it  was  that  deluded  thee,  and  who 
it  was  also  "to  whom  he  sent  thee.  The  man  that  met 
thee  is  one  Worldly-wiseman,  and  rightly  is  he  so  call- 
ed ;  partly  because  he  savoureth  only  the  doctrine  of 
this  worlds  (therefore  he  always  goes  to  the  town  of  Mo*- 
rality  to  church,)  and  partly  because  he  loveth  that  doc- 
trine best,  for  it  saveth  him  best  from  the  cross :)  and 
because  he  is  of  this  carnal  temper,  therefore  he  seek- 
eth  to  pervert  my  ways,  though  right.  Now  there  are 
three  things  in  this  man's  counsel  that  thou  must  utterly 
abhor  ; — his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way  ; — his  laboring 
to  render  the  cross  odious  to  thee  ; — and  his  setting  thy 
feet  in  that  way  that  leadeth  unto  the  ministration  of 
death. 

First,  thou  must  abhor  his  turning  thee  out  of  the 
way,  yea,  and  thine  own  consenting  thereto  ;  because 
this  is  to  reject  the  counsel  of  God  for  the  sake  of  the 
counsel  of  a  vuerldly-wise  man.  The  Lord  says,  "  Strive 
to  enter  at  the  strait  gate"  (the  gate  to  which  I  send 
thee)  "  for  strait  is  the  gate  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and 
few  there  be  that  find  it."iJ  From  this  little  Wicket-gate, 
apd  from  the  way  thereto,  hath  this  wicked  man  turned 

*  Heb.  xii.  25.  f  Heb.  x.  38.  f  John  iv.  5. 

$  Gal.  vi.  12.  U  Luke  xiii.  24.    Matt.  vii.  13,  14. 


50  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

thee,  to  the  bringing  of  thee  almost  to  destruction.  Hale, 
therefore,  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way,  and  abhor 
thyself  for  hearkening  to  him. 

Secondly,  thou  must  abhor  his  laboring  to  render  the 
cross  odious  unto  thee  ;  for  thou  art  to  u  prefer  it  be- 
fore the  treasures  in  Egypt."*  Besides,  the  King  of 
Glory  hath  told  thee,  that  "  he  that  will  save  his  life  shall 
lose  it :"  and.  He  that  comes  after  me,  and  hates  not 
his  father,  and  mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and  breth- 
ren, and  sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life,  also,  cannot  be 
my  disciple."f  I  say,  therefore,  for  a  man  to  labor  to 
persuade  thee  that  that  sh'aH  be  thy  death,  without  which 
the  Truth  hath  said  thou  canst  not  have  eternal  life ; 
this  doctrine  thou  must  abhor. 

Thirdly,  thou  must  hate  his  setting  of  thy  feet  in  the 
way  that  leadeth  to  the  ministration  of  death.  And  for 
this  thou  must  consider  to  whom  he  sent  thee,  and  also 
how  unable  that  person  was  to  deliver  thee  from  thy 
burden. 

He  to  whom  thou  wast  sent  for  ease,  being  by  name 
Legality,  is  "  the  son  of  the  bond-woman,  which  now  is, 
and  is  in  bondage  with  her  children  ;"\  and  is,  in  a  mys- 
tery, this  mount  Sinai  which  thou  hast  feared  will  fall 
on  thy  head.  Now  if  she  with  her  children  are  in  bon- 
dage, how  canst  thou  expect  by  them  to  be  made  free  ? 
This  Legality,  therefore,  is  not  able  to  set  thee  free 
from  thy  burden.  No  man  was  as  yet  ever  rid  of  his 
burden  by  him ;  no,  nor  ever  is  like  to  be.  "  Ye  cannot 
be  justified  by  the  works  of  the  law  ;  for  by  the  deeds 
of  the  law  no  man  living"  can  be  rid  of  his  burden  : 
therefore  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman  is  a  liar,  and  Mr.  Le- 
gality a  cheat  :  and  for  his  son  Civility,  notwithstanding 
his  simpering  looks,  he  is  but  a  hypocrite,  and  cannot 
help  thee.  Believe  me,  there  is  nothing  in  all  this  noise 
that  thou  hast  heard  ot  these  sottish  men,  but  a  design 
to  beguile  thee  of  thy  salvation,  by  turning  thee  from 
the  way  in  which  I  had  set  thee.  After  this  Evangelist 
called  aloud  to  the  heavens  for  confirmation  of  what  he 
had  said ;  and  with  that  there  came  words  and  fire  out 

*  Heb.  xi.  25, 26.        t  Matt.  x.  37—39.     Mark  viii.  34,  35 
J-uke  xiY.  26,  27.    Jobuxii.  25.  t  Gal,  iv.  21— 27. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  61 

of  the  mountain  under  which  poor  Christian  stood,  that 
made  the  hair  of  his  flesh  stand  up.  The  words  were 
thus  pronounced  :  •'  As  many  as  are  of  the  works  of 
the  law  are  under  the  curse  :  for  it  is  written,  Cursed  is 
every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are 
written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them."* 

Now.  Christian  looked  for  nothing  but  death,  and  be- 
gan to  cry  out  lamentably  ;  even  cursing  the  time  in 
which  he  met  Mr.  Woildly-wiseman  ;  still  calling  him- 
-self  a  thousand  fools  for  hearkening  to  his  counsel.  He 
also  was  greatiy -ashamed  to  think  that  this  gentleman's 
arguments,  flowing  only  from  the  flesh,  should  have  the 
prevalency  with  him  as  to  cause  him  to  forsake  the 
right  way.  This  done,  he  applied  himself  again  to  E- 
vangelist  in  words  and  sense  as  follows  : 

Sir,  what  think  you  ?  Is  there  any  hope  ?  May  I  now 
go  back,  and  go  up  to  the  Wicket-gate  ?  Shall  I  not  be 
abandoned  for  this,  and  sent  back  from  thence  ashamed  ? 
I  am  sorry  I  have  hearkened  to  this  man's  counsel  j  but 
may  my  sifi  be  forgiven  ? 

Then  said  Evangelist  to  him,  thy  sin  is  very  great, 
for  by  it  thou  hast  committed  two  evils  ;  thou  hast  for- 
saken the  way  that  is  good,  to  tread  in  forbidden  paths  : 
yet  will  the  man  at  the  gate  receive  thee,  foi  he  has 
good  will  for  men  ;  only,  said  he,  take  heed  that  thou 
turn  not  aside  again,  lest  thou  perishjfrom  the  way  when 
his  wrath  is  kindled  but  a  little. "t  Then  did  Christian 
address  himself  to  go  back  ;  and  Evangelist,  after  he 
had  kissed  him,  gave  him  one  smile,  and  bid  him  God 
speed.  So  he  went  on  with  haste,  neither  spake  he  to 
any  man  by  the  way  ;  nor  if  any  asked  him  would  he 
vouchsafe  them  an  answer.  He  went  like  one  that  was 
all  the  while  treading  on  forbidden  ground,  and  could  by 
no  means  think  himself  safe,  till  again  he  was  got  into 
the  way  which  he  left  to  follow  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman's 
counsel. 

So  in  process  of  time  Christian  got  up  to  the  gate. 
Now  over  the  gate  there  was  written,  <c  Knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  unto  you."{ 

He  knocked  therefore  more  than  once  or  twice,  say- 
ing— 

*  Gal.  iii.  10.        f  Psa!.  ii.  12.     t  Matt.  vii.  7,  8*. 


si 

*  May  I  now  enter  here  ?  Will  he  within 
Open  to  sorry  me,  though  I  have  been 
An  undeserving  rebel  ?  Then  shall  I 
Not  tail  to  sing  his  lasting  praise  on  high.* 

At  last  there  came  a  grave  person  to  the  gate,  named 
Good- will,  who  asked  him  who  was  there  ?  and  whence 
he  came  ?  and  what  he  would  have  ? 

Chr  Here  is  a  poor  burdened  sinner.  I  come  from 
the  city  of  Destruction,  but  am  going  to  Mount  Zion, 
that  I  may  be  delivered  from  the  wrath  to  come.  I  would, 
therefore,  Sir,  since  I  am  informed  that  by  this  gate  is 
the  way  thither,  know  if  you  are  willing  to  let  me  in. 

I  am  willing  with  all  my  heart,  said  he.  And  with 
that  he  opened  the  gate. 

So  when  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the  other  gave  him 
a  pull  Then  said  Christian,  What  means  that  ?  the 
other  told  him,  '  A  little  distance  from  this  gate  there  is 
erected  a  strong  castle,  of  which  Beelzebub  is  the  cap- 
tain ;  from  thence  both  he  and  they  that  are  with  him 
shoot  arrows  at  those  that  come  up  to  this  gate,  if  haply 
they  may  die  before  they  can  enter  in.' 

Then  said  Christian,  I  rejoice  and  tremble.  So  when 
he  was  got  in,  the  man  of  the  gate  asked  him  who  di- 
rected him  thither. 

Chr.  Evangelist  bid  me  come  hither  and  knock,  as  I 
did ;  and  he  said  that  you,  Sir,  would  tell  me  what  I 
must  do. 

Good.  "  An  open  door  is  before  thee,  and  no  man  can 

shut  it." 

Chr.  Now  I  begin  to  reap  the  benefits  of  my  hazards-. 

Good.  But  how  is  it  that  you  come  alone  ? 

Chr.  Because  none  of  my  neighbors  saw  their  dan- 
ger, as  I  saw  mine. 

Good.  Did  any  of  them  know  of  your  coming? 

Chr.  Yes,  my  wife  and  children  saw  me  at  the  first, 
and  called  after  me  to  turn  again  :  also  some  of  my 
neighbors  stood  crying  and  calling  after  me  to  return ; 
but  I  put  mv  fingers  in  my  ears  and  so  came  on  my  way. 

Good.  But  did  none  of  them  follow  you,  to  persuade 
you  to  go  b3ck  ? 
'    Chr. '  Yes,  both  Obstinate  and  Pliable  :  but  when  they 


THE    FILGRIM'S    PROGRESS*  63 

saw  that  they  could  not  prevail,  Obstinate  went  railing 
back,  but  Pliable  came  with  me  a  little  way. 

Good.  But  why  did  he  not  come  through  ? 

Chr.  We  indeed  came  both  together  until  we  came 
to  the  slough  of  Despond,  into  the  which  we  also  sud- 
denly fell.  And  then  was  my  neighbor  Pliable  discour- 
aged, and  would  not  adventure  further.  Wherefore 
getting  out  again  on  that  side  next  his  own  House,  he 
told  me  I  should  possess  the  brave  country  alone  for 
him  :  so  he  went  his  way,  and  1  came  mine  ;  he  after 
Obstinate,  and  I  to  this  gate. 

Then  said  Good-will,  Alas,  poor  man  t  is  the  celes- 
tial glory  of  so  small  esteem  with  him,  that  he  counteth 
it  not  worth  running  the  hazard  of  a  few  difficulties  to 
obtain  it  ? 

Truly,  said  Christian,  I  have  said  the  truth  of  Pliable; 
and  if  I  should  also  say  all  the  truth  of  myself,  it  will 
appear  there  is  no  difference  betwixt  him  and  myself. 
It  is  true  he  went  back  to  his  own  house,  but  I  also  tur- 
ned aside  to  go  into  the  way  of  death,  being  persuaded 
thereto  by  the  carnal  argument  of  one  Mr.  Worldly- 
"wiseman. 

Good.  Oh  !  did  be  light  upon  you  ?  What,  he  would 
liave  had  you- have  sought  for  ease  at  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Legality  t  they  are  both  of  them  very  cheats.  But  difl- 
you  take  his  counsel  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  as  far  as  I  durst  I  went  to  find  out  Mr*. 
Legality,  until  I  thought  that  the  mountain  that  stands 
by  his  house  would  have  fallen  upon  my  head;  where- 
fore there  I  was  forced  to  stop. 

Good.  That  mountain  has  been  the  death  of  many, 
and  will  be  the  death  of  many  more.  It  is  well  you  es- 
caped being  dashed  in  pieces  by  it. 

Chr.  Why,  truly,  I  do  not  know  What  had  become  of 
me  there,  had  not  Evangelist  happily  met  me  again  as  I 
was  musing  in  the  midst  of  my  dumps  :  but  it  was  God's 
mercy  that  he  came  to  me  again,  for  else  I  had  never 
come,  hither.  But  now  I  am  come,  such  a  one  as  I  am; 
more  fit  indeed  for  death-fey"  that  mountain,  than  thus 
to  stand  talking  with  my  Lord.  But,  oh  \  what  a:  favor 
is  this  to  me,  that  yet  I  am  admitted  entrance  here. 
Good,  We  make  no  objections  against  any,  hoi  >h- 
E  2 


3*4  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS, 

standing  all  that  they  have  done  before  they  come  hith  ' 
er.  "  They  in  no  wise  are  cast  out  ;"*  and  therefore, 
good  Christian,  come  a  little  way  with  me,  and  I  will 
teach  thee  about  the  way  thou  must  go.  Look  before 
thee ;  dost  thou  see  this  narrow  way  ?  that  is  the  way 
thou  must  go.  It  was  cast  up  by  the  patriarchs,  proph- 
ets, Christ  and  his  apostles,  and  it  is  as  straight  as  a 
rule  can  make  it  :  this  is  the  way  thou  must  go. 

But,  said  Christian,  are  there  no  turnings  nor  wind- 
ings, by  which  a  stranger  may  lose  his  way  ? 

Good.  Yes,  there  are  many  ways  butt  down  upon  this, 
and  they  are  crooked  and  wide  :  but  thus  thou  must 
■distinguish  the  right  from  the  wrong,  the  right  only  be- 
ing straight  and  narrow.f 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  asked  him 
further,  if  he  could  not  help  him  off  with  the  burden  that 
was  upon  his  back  ;  for  as  yet  he  had  not  got  rid  there- 
of, nor  could  he  by  any  means  get  it  off  without  help. 

Me  told  him,  as  to  thy  burden,  be  content  to  bear  it 
until  thou  comest  to  the  place  of  deliverance  j  for  there 
it  will  fall  from  thy  back  of  itself 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  ad- 
dress himself  to  his  journey.  So  the  other  told  him  that 
by  that  he  was  gone  some  distance  from  the  gate  he 
would  come  at  the  house  of  the  Interpreter,  at  whose 
door  he  should  knock,  and  he  would  show  him  excellent 
things.  Then  Christian  took  his  leave  of  his  friend,  and 
he  again  bid  him  God  speed. 

Then  Christian  went  on  till  he  came  to  the  house  of 
the  Interpreter,  where  he  knocked  over  and  over  :  at 
last  one  came  to  the  door,  and  asked  who  was  there  ? 

Chr.  Sir,  here  is  a  traveller,  who  was  bid  by  an  ac- 
quaintance of  the  good  man  of  this  house  to  call  here 
for  my  profit ;  I  would  therefore  speak  with  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house.  So  he  called  for  the  master  of  the 
house,  who  after  a  little  time  came  to  Christian,  and  as- 
ked him  what  he  would  have  I 

Sir,  said  Christian,  I  am  a  man  that  am  come  from 
the  city  of  Destruction,  and  am  going  to  the  Mount 
Zion  ;  and  I  was  told  by  the  man  that  stands  at  the  gaCe 

f  Johnvi.  37.  t  Matt.  vji.  13*  14'. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  55 

at  the  head  of  this  way,  that  if  I  called  here  you  would 
show  me  excellent  things,  such  a*  would  be  a  help  to 
me  in  my  journey. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  Come  in ;  I  will  show 
thee  that  which  will  be  profitable  to  thee.  So  he  com- 
manded his  man  to  light  a  candie,  and  bid  Christian  fol- 
low him  :  so  he  had  him  into  a  private  room,  and  bid  his 
man  open  a  door ;  the  which  when  he  had  done,  Chris- 
tian saw  the  picture  of  a  very  grave  person  hang  up  a- 
gainst  the  wall ;  and  this  was  the  fashion  of  it :  k  it  had 
eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  the  best  of  books  in  its  hand, 
the  law  of  truth  was  written  upon  its  lips,  the  world  was 
behind  its  back  ;  it  stood  as  if  it  pleaded  with  men,  and 
a  crown  of  gold  did  hang  over  its  head  ? 

Then  said  Christian,  What  meaneth  this  ? 

Inter/:.  The  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  one  of  a 
thousand  ;  he  can  beget  children,*  travail  in  birth  with 
children,!  and  nurse  them  himself  when  they  are  born. 
And  whereas  thou  seest  him  with  his  eyes  lifted  up  to 
heaven,  the  best  of  bcoks  in  his  hand,  and  the  law  of 
truth  written  on  his  lips ;  it  is  to  show  thee  that  his 
work  is  to  know  and  unfold  dark  things  to  sinners  ;  even 
as  also  thou  seest  him  stand  as  if  he  pleaded  with  men  : 
and  whereas  thou  seest  the  world  as  cast  behind  him, 
and  that  a  crown  hangs  over  his  head  ;  that  is  to  show 
thee,  that  slighting  and  despising  the  things  that  are 
present,  for  the  love  that  he  hath  to  his  Master's  ser-. 
vice,  he  is  sure  in  the  world  that  comes  next  to  have 
glory  for  his  reward.  Now,  said  the  Interpreter ,  I  have 
shewed  thee  this  picture  first,  because  the  man  whose 
picture  this  is,  is  the  only  man  whom  the  Lord  of  the 
place  whither  thou  art  going,  hath  authorised  to  be  thy 
guide,  in  all  difficult  places  thou  mayest  meet  with  in 
the  way :  wherefore  take  good  heed  to  what  I  have 
shewed  thee,  and  bear  well  in  mind  what  thou  hast  seen; 
lest  in  thy  journey  thou  meet  Avith  some  that  pretend  to 
lead  thee  right,  but  their  way  goes  down  to  death. 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  ve- 
ry large  parlour  that  w^s  full  of  dust,  because  never 
swept ;  the  which,  after  he  had  reviewed  a  little  whiter 

*  1  Cpr.  tv.  1$  f  Gal.  iv.  19. 


56  THE    PILGRIM  S    PROGRESS. 

the  Interpreter  called  for  a  man  to  sweep.  Now  when 
lie  began  to  sweep,  the  dust  began  so  abundantly  to  fly- 
about,  that  Christian  had  almost  therewith  been  choak- 
ed.  Then  baid  the  Interpreter  to  a  damsel  that  stood 
by,  bridg  hither  water,  and  sprinkle  the  room ;  the 
which  when  she  had  done,  it  was  swept  and  cleansed 
with  pleasure. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  means  tin's  ? 
The  Interpreter  answered,  ThL  parlour  is  the  heart 
of  a  man  that  was  never  sanctified  by  the  sweet  grace 
of  the  gospel  :  the  dust  i->  his  original  sin  and  inward 
conupuoiis  that  have  defiled  the  whole  man.  He  that 
began  to  swe  p  at  hrst  i$  the  law  :  but  she  that  brought 
water  and  ciid  sprinkle  it,  is  the  goapel.  Now  whereas 
thou  sawest  that,  so  soon  as  the  first  began  to  sweep,  the 
dust  did  so  fly  about,  that  the  room  by  him  could  not 
be  cleansed,  but  thut  thou  wast  almost  choaked  there- 
with ;  this  is  to  shew  thee,  that  the  law,  instead  of  clean- 
sing the  heart  by  its  working  from  sin,  doth  revive,  put 
strength  into,  and  increase  it  in  the  soul,  even  as  it  doth 
discover  and  forbid  it  ;  for  it  doth  not  give  power  to 
subdue  it.* 

Again,  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  sprinkle  the  room 
with  water,  upon  which  it  was  cleansed  with  pleasure  : 
this  is  to  shew  thee,  that  when  the  gospel  comes  in  the 
sweet  and  precious  influences  thereof  to  the  heart,  then, 
I  say,  even  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  lay  the  dust  by 
sprinkling  the  floor  with  water,  so  is  sin  vanquished  and 
subdued,  and  the  soul  made  clean  through  the  faith  of 
it,  and  consequently  fit  for  the  King  of  glory  to  inhabit.! 
I  saw,  moreover,  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter 
took  him  by  the  hand,  and  had  him  into  a  little  room 
where  sat  two  little  children.,  each  one  in  his  chair :  the 
name  of  the  oldest  was  Passion,  and  the  name  of  the  oth- 
er Patience.  Passion  seemed  to  be  much  discontent- 
ed, but  Patience  was  very  quiet.  Then  Christian  ask- 
ed, What  is  the  reason  of  the  discontent  of  Passion  2 
The  In  erpreter  answered,  The  governor  of  them  would 
have  him  stay  for  his  best  things  till  the  beginning  of 

'*■  Rom.  v.  20.  vii.  7—11.     1  Cor.  xv.  56.  f  John  xiv. 

21—23.  xv.  3.    Acts  xv.  9.    Rom.  xvi.  25. 26.  Epb,  v.  26, 


the  pilgrim's  progress*  57 

the  next  year  ;  but  he  will  have  all  now.    But  Patience 
is  willing  to  Wait- 

Then  I  saw  that  one  came  to  Passion  and  brought 
him  a  bag  of  treasure,  and  poured  it  down  at  his  feet: 
the  which  he  took  up  and  rejoiced  therein,  and  withal 
laughed  Patience  to  scorn.  But  I  beheld  but  a  while, 
and  he  had  lavished  all  away,  and  had  nothing  left  him 
but  rags. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  Expound  this 
matter  more  fully  to  me. 

So  he  said,  These  two  lads  are  figures  :  Passion,  of 
the  men  of  this  world  ;  and  Patience,  of  that  which  is  to 
come.  For  as  here  thou  seest  Passion  will  have  all  now 
this  year,  that  is  to  say,  in  this  world,  so  are  the  men  of 
this  world  :  they  must  have  all  their  good  things  now, 
they  cannot  stay  till  next  year  ;  that  is,  until  the  next 
world,  for  their  portion  of  good.  That  proverb,  *  A 
bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush/  is  of  more 
authority  with  them  than  are  all  the  divine  testimonies 
of  the  good  of  the  world  to  come.  But  as  thou  sawest 
that  he  had  quickly  lavished  all  away,  and  had  presently 
left  him  nothing  but  rags  ;  so  will  it  be  with  all  such 
men  at  the  end  of  this  world. 

Then  said  Christian,  Now  I  see  that  Patience  has  the 
best  wisdom,  and  that  upon  many  accounts  :  because  he 
stays  for  the  best  things  :  and  also  because  he  will  have 
the  glory  of  his  when  the  other  has  nothing  but  rags. 

Interfi.  Nay,  you  may  add  another,  to  wit,  the  glory 
of  the  next  world  will  never  wear  out :  but  these  are 
suddenly  gone.  Therefore  Passion  had  not  so  much 
reason  to  laugh  at  Patience  because  he  had  his  good 
things  first,  as  Patience  will  have  to  laugh  at  Passion 
because  he  had  his  best  things  last  ;  for  first  must- give 
place  to  last,  because  last  must  have  its  time  to  come  ; 
but  last  gives  place  to  nothing,  for  there  is  not  another 
to  succeed  :  he,  therefore,  that  hath  his  portion  first 
must  needs  have  a  time  to  spend  it ;  but  he  that  has  his 
portion  last  must  have  it  lastingly  :  therefore  it  is  said 
otDives,  "  In  thy  life  time  thou  receivedst  thy  good 
things,  and  likewise  Lazarus  evil  things ;  but  now  he  is 
comforted,  and  thou  art  tormented."* 
*Lukexvi.  19—31. 


58  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Chr.  Then  I  perceive  it  is  not  best  to  covet  things 
that  are  now,  but  to  wait  for  things  to  come. 

Interfi.  You  say  truth  :  "  For  the  things  that  are  seen 

u  I  ;  but  the  things  that  are  not  seen  arc      i 

;"•  but,  though  this  be  so,  yet,  since  things  present 

and  our  fleshly  appetite  are  such  near  neighbors  one  to 

er  ;  and  again,  because  things  to  come  and  carnal 

sense  are  such  strangers  one  to  another  ;  therefore  it  is 

that  the  first  of  these  so  suddenly  fall  into  amity  ^  and 

ince  is  so  continually  between  the  second. 

Then  I   saw  in  my  dream  that  the  Interpreter  took 

Christian  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  place  where 

was  a  fire  burning  against  the  wall,  and  one  standing  by 

ways  casting  much  water  upon  it  to  quench  it  :  yet 

did  the  fire  burn  higher  and  hotter. 

Then  said  Christian,  what  means  this  ? 

The  Interpreter  answered,  This  fire  is  the  work  of 
grace  that  is  wrought  in  the  heart ;  he  that  casts  water 
upon  it  to  extinguish  and  put  it  out,  is  the  Devil  :  but 
in  that  thou  sewt  the  fire  notwithstanding  burn  higher 
and  hotter,  thou  shalt  also  see  the  reason  of  that.  So 
he  had  him  about  to  the  backside  of  the  wall,  where  be 
saw  a  man  with  a  vessel  of  oil  in  his  hand,  of  which  he 
did  also  continually  cast,  but  secretly,  into  the  fire. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

The  Interpreter  answered,  This  is  Christ,  who  contin- 
ually with  the  oil  of  his  grace  maintains  the  work  alrea- 
dy begun  in  the  heart :  by  the  means  of  which,  notwith- 
standing what  the  devil  can  do,  the  souls  of  ins  people 
prove  gracious  still.f  And  in  that  thou  sawest  that  the 
man  stood  behind  the  wall  to  maintain  the  fire  ;  this  is 
to  teach  thee  that  it  is  hard  for  the  tempted  tef.see  how 
this  work  of  grace  is  maintained  in  the  soul. 

I  saw  also  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  again  by  the 
hand,  and  led  him  into  a  pleasant  place,  where  was 
builded  a  stately  palace,  beautiful  to  behold  :  at  the  sight 
of  which  Christian  was  greatly  delighted  ;  he  saw  also 
upon  the  top  thereof  certain  persons  walking,  who 
were  clothed  all  in  gold. 

Then  said  Christian,  May  we  go  in  thither  ? 

*  2  Cor.  iv.  18.  f  2  Cor  xii.  9. 


69 

Then  the  Interpreter  took  him,  and  led  him  up  to- 
wards the  door  of  the  palace  :  and  behold,  at  the  door 
stood  a  great  company  of  men,  as  desirous  to  go  in,  but 
durst  not.  There  also  sat  a  man  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  door,  at  a  table  side,  with  a  book  and  his  ink-horn 
before  him,  to  take  the  name  of  him  that  should  enter 
therein  :  he  saw  also  that  in  the  door  way  stood  many 
men  in  armour  to  keep  it,  being  resolved  to  do  to  the 
men  that  would  enter  what  hurt  and  mischief  they 
could.  Now  was  Christian  somewhat  in  a  maze :  at 
last  when  every  man  started  back  for  fear  of  the  arm- 
ed men,  Christian  saw  a  man  of  a  very  stout  countenance 
come  up  to  the  man  that  sat  there  to  write,  saying,  '  Set 
down  my  name,  Sir :'  the  which  when  he  had  done,  he 
saw  the  man  draw  his  sword,  and  put  an  helmet  upon 
his  head,  and  rush  towards  the  door  upon  the  arm- 
ed men,  who  laid  upon  him  with  deadly  force ;  but 
the  man  was  not  at  all  discouraged,  but  fell  to  cutting 
and  hacking  most  fiercely.  So  after  he  had  received 
and  given  many  wounds  to  those  that  attempted  to  keep 
him  out,  he  cut  his  way  through  them  all,  and  pressed 
forward  into  the  palace  ;  at  which  there  was  a  pleasant 
voice  heard  from  those  that  were  within,  even  of  those 
that  walked  upon  the  top  of  the  palace,  saying, 

'  Come  in,  come  in  : 

•  Eternal  glory  thou  shait  win.' 

So  he  went  in,  and  was  clothed  with  such  garments  as 
they.  Then  Christian  smiled,  and  said,  I  think  verily  I 
know  the  meaning  of  this. 

Now  said  Christian,  let  me  go  hence.  Nay,  stay, 
said  the  Interpreter,  till  I  have  showed  thee  a  little  more, 
and  after  that  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way.  So  he  took 
him  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a  very  dark 
loom,  where  there  sat  a  man  in  an  iron  cage. 

Now  the  man,  to  look  on,  seemed  very  sad.  He  sat 
with  his  eyes  looking  down  to  the  ground,  his  hands  fol- 
ded together,  and  he  sighed  as  if  he  would  break  his 
heart.  Then  s?id  Christian,  What  means  this  ?  At 
which  the  Interpreter  bid  him  talk  with  the  man. 


60  THE    P1LGR1M*S    PROGRESS. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  man,  What  art  thou  ?  The 
man  answered,  I  am  what  I  was  not  once. 

Chr.  What  wert  thou  once  ? 

The  man  said,  I  was  once  a  fair  and  flourishing  pro- 
fessor, both  in  my  own  eyes,  and  also  in  the  eyes  of  oth- 
ers :  I  once  was,  as  I  thought,  fair  for  the  celestial  ci- 
ty,* and  had  then  even  joy  at  the  thoughts  that  I  should 
get  thither. 

Chr.  Well,  but  what  art  thou  now  ? 

Man.  I  am  now  a  man  of  despair,  and  am  shut  up  in 
it  as  in  this  iron  cage.  I  cannot  get  out  j  O  now  I  can- 
not. 

Chr.  But  how  earnest  thou  in  this  condition  ? 

Man.  I  left  off  to  watch  and  be  sober ;  I  laid  the 
reins  upon  the  neck  of  my  lusts ;  I  sinned  against  the 
light  of  the  word,  and  the  goodness  of  God :  I  have 
grieved  the  Spirit,  and  he  is  gone  ;  I  tempted  the  Dev- 
il and  he  is  come  to  me  ;  I  have  provoked.  God  to  an- 
ger, and  he  has  left  me  ;  I  have  so  hardened  my  heart, 
that  I  cannot  repent. 

Then  said  Chaistian,  to  the  Interpreter,  But  is  there 
no  hope  for  such  a  man  as  this  ?  Ask  him,  said  the  In- 
terpreter. 

Then  said  Christian,  is  there  no  hope  but  you  must 
be  kept  in  the  iron  cage  of  despair  ? 

Man.  No,  none  at  all. 

Chr.  Why?  the  Son  of  the  Blessed  is  very  pitiful. 

Man.  I  have  crucified  him  to  myself  afresh  ;  I  have 
despised  his  person,  I  have  despised  his  righteousness, 
I  have  counted  his  blood  an  unholy  thing.  I  have  done 
despite  to  the  Spirit  of  Grace  ;f  therefore  I  have  shut 
myself  out  of  all  promises,  and  there  now  remains  to 
me  nothing  but  threatenings,  dreadful  threatenings,  fear- 
ful threatenings,  of  certain  judgment  and  fiery  indigna- 
tion, which  shall  devour  me  as  an  adversary. 

Chr.  For  wjjiat  did  you  bring  yourself  into  this  condi- 
tion ? 

Man.  For  the  Justs,  pleasures,  and  profits  of  this 
world;  in  the  enjoyment  of  which  I  did  then  promise 

*  Luke  riii.  13.     f  Luke  xix.  14.    Heb.  vi.  4—6.  x.  28,  29. 


THE  pilgrim's  progress.  61 

myself  much  delight :  but  now  every  one  of  those  things 
also  bite  me  and  gnaw  me  like  a  burning  worm. 

Chr.  But  canst  thou  not  repent  and  turn  ? 

Man.  God  hath  denied  me  repentance.  His  word 
gives  me  no  encouragement  to  believe  :  yea,  himself 
hath  shut  me  up  in  this  iron  cage  :  nor  can  all  the  men 
in  the  world  let  me  out.  O  eternity  !  eternity  !  how 
shall  I  grapple  with  the  misery  that  I  must  meet  with 
in  eternity ! 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  Let  this  man's 
misery  be  remembered  by  thee,  and  be  an  everlasting 
caution  to  thee. 

Well,  said  Christian,  this  is  fearful !  God  help  me  to 
watch  and  be  sober,  and  to  pray  that  I  may  shun  the 
cause  of  this  man's  misery.  Sir,  is  it  not  time  for  me 
to  go  on  my  way  now. 

Inter  ft.  Tarry,  till  I  shall  show  thee  one  thing  more, 
and  then  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way. 

So  he  took  Christian  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him 
into  a  chamber  where  there  was  one  rising  out  of  bed  ; 
and  as  he  put  on  his  raiment  he  shook  and  trembled. 
Then  said  Christian,  Why  doth  this  man  thus  tremble  ? 
The  Interpreter  then  bid  him  tell  to  Christian  the  reason 
of  his  so  doing.  So  he  began  and  said,  This  night  as  I 
was  in  my  sleep  I  dreamed,  and,  behold  the  heavens 
grew  exceeding  black :  also  it  thundered  and  lightened 
in  most  fearful  wise,  that  it  put  me  into  an  agony  :  so  I 
looked  up  in  my  dream,  and  saw  the  clouds  rack  at  an 
unusual  rate,upon  which  1  heard  a  great  sound  ofa  trum- 
pet, and  saw  also  a  man  sit  upon  a  cloud,  attended  with 
the  thousands  of  heaven  :  they  were  all  in  flaming  fire, 
also  the  heavens  were  in  a  burning  flame.  I  heard  then 
a  voice  saying,  '  Arise  ye  dead,  and  come  to  judgment,' 
and  with  that  the  rocks  rent,  the  graves  opened,  and  the 
dead  that  were  therein  came  forth  :*  some  of  them  were 
exceeding  glad,  and  lboked  upwards  :  and  some  sought 
to  hide  themselves  under  the  mountains  :f  the  I  saw  the 
man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud  open  the  book  and  bid  the 

*  lohn  v.  28,  29.       1  Cor.  xv.  51— ^5C.        2  Thes.  i.  7—10. 

Jude  14,  15.     Rev,  xx   11— 15. 

i  Ps.  I.  1—3.  22.       Isai.  xsvi.  20,  21.        Mic.  vii,  !§,  17. 


tf2 

\yorld  draw  near.  Yet  there  was,  by  reason  of  a  fierce 
flame  which  issued  out  and  came  before  him,  a  conven- 
ient distance  betwixt  him  and  them,  as  betwixt  the  judge 
and  the  prisoners  at  the  bar.*  I  heard  it  also  proclai- 
med to  them  that  attended  on  the  man  that  sat  on  the 
cloud,  '  Gather  together  the  tares,  the  chaff,  and  stub- 
ble, and  cast  them  into  the  burning  lake :'  and  with  that 
the  bottomless  pit  opened  just  whereabout  I  stood  ;  out 
of  the  mouth  of  which  there  came,  in  abundant  manner, 
smoke,  and  coals  of  fire,  with  hideous  noises.  It  was 
also  said  to  the  same  persons,  '  Gather  my  wheat  into 
the  garner.'f  And  with  that  I  saw  many  catched  up 
and  carried  a  ^ay  into  the  clouds,}  but  I  was  left  behind. 
I  also  sought  to  hide  myself,  but  I  could  not,  for  the 
man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud  still  kept  his  eye  upon  me  : 
my  sins  also  came  in  my  mind,  and  my  conscience  did 
accuse  me  on  every  side.  §  Upon  this  I  awaked  from  my 
sleep. 

C/ir.  But  what  was  it  that  made  you  so  afraid  of  this 
sight  ? 

Man.  Why  I  thought  that  the  day  of  judgment  was 
come,  and  that  I  was  not  ready  for  it ;  but  this  frighten- 
ed me  most,  that  the  angels  gathered  up  several  and 
left  me  behind  ;  also  the  pit  of  hell  opened  her  mouth 
just  where  I  stood.  My  conscience  too  afflicted  me  : 
and,  as  I  thought,  the  Judge  had  always  his  eye  upon 
me,  showing  indignation  in  his  countenance. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  Hast  thou  con- 
sidered all  these  things  ? 

C/ir.  Yes ;  and  they  put  me  in  hope  and  fear. 

Interfi.  Well,  keep  all  things  so  in  thy  mind  that 
they  may  be  as  a  goad  in  thy  sides,  to  prick  thee  for- 
ward in  the  way  thou  must  go.  Then  Christian  began 
to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address  himself  to  his  journ- 
ey. Then  said  the  Interpreter,  the  Comforter  be  al- 
ways with  thee,  good  Christian,  to  guide  thee  in  the 
wav  that  leads  to  the  city.  So  Christian  went  on  his 
•Way,  saying — 

*  Dan.  vii.  9,  10.      Mai.  iii.  2,  3.  t  Mai.  iv.  1. 

Matt.  hi.  12.  xiii.  30.  Lnkeiii.  17.  J  1  The*,  iv.  13-18. 
§  Rom.  i:   14,  15. 


63 

*  Here  I  have  seen  things  rare  and  profitable  ; 
Things  pleasant,  dreadful,  things  to  make  me  stable 
In  what  I  have  bepua  to  take  in  hand  : 
Then  let  me  think  on  them,  and  understand 
Wherefore  they  show'd  me  where  ;  and  let  me  be 
Thankful,  O  good  Interpreter,  to  thee.' 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  highway,  up  which 
Christian  was  to  go,  was  fenced  on  either  side  with  a 
wall,  and  that  wall  was  called  Salvation.*  Up  this  way 
therefore  did  burthened  Christian  run,  but  not  without 
great  difficulty,  because  of  the  load  on  his  back. 

He  ran  thus  until  he  came  to  a  place  somewhat  ascen- 
ding, ani  upon  that  place  stood  a  Cross,  and  a  little  be- 
low, in  the  bottom,  a  Sepulchre.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream, 
that  just  as  Christian  came  up  with  the  cross,  his  bur- 
den loosed  from  off  his  shoulders,  and  fell  from  off  his 
back,  and  began  to  tumble,  and  so  continued  to  do  till 
it  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre,  where  it  fell  in, 
and  I  saw  it  no  more. 

Then  was  Christian  glad  and  lightsome,  and  said 
with  a  merry  heart,  "  He  hath  given  me  rest  by  his  sor- 
row, and  life  by  his  death."  Then  he  stood  still  a- 
while  to  look  and  wonder  ;  for  it  was  very  surprising  to 
him  that  the  sight  of  the  cross,  should  thus  ease  him  of 
his  burden.  He  looked,  therefore,  and  looked  again, 
even  till  the  springs  that  were  in  his  head  sent  the  wa- 
ters down  his  cheeks.f  Now,  as  he  stood  looking  and 
weeping,  behold  three  shining  ones  came  to  him,  and 
saluted  him  with  "  Peace  be  to  thee :"  so  the  first  said 
to  him,  "  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee  ;*'$  the  second 
stripped  him  of  his  rags,  and  clothed  him  with  change 
of  raiment ;  the  third  also  set  a  mark  on  his  forehead, 
and  gave  him  a  roll  with  a  seal  upon  it,§  which  he  bid 
him  look  on  as  he  ran  ;  and  that  he  should  give  it  in  at  the 
celestial  gate ;  so  they  went  their  way.  Then  Christian 
gave  three  leaps  for  joy,  and  went  on  singing — 

*  Thus  far  did  I  come  laden  with  my  sin, 
Nor  could  ought  ease  the  grief  ihat  I  was  in, 

*  Isa.  xxvi.  1.  f  Zech.  xii.  10.  j  Mark  ii.  5, 

?Zech.  iii.  4.    Epb.  i.  13. 


63  THB    PILGRIM'S    PROURLSt. 

-Till  I  came  hither  :  what  a  place  is  this  ! 
IVIust  here  be  the  beginning  of  ray  bliss  ? 
Must  here  the  burden  fall  from  o*f»'my  back  ? 
Must  here  the  strings  that  bint* i  t  tome  crack  ?     • 
Blest  cross  !  blest  sepulchre  !  blest  rather  be 
The  man  that  there  was  put  to  sbaiae  for  me  !' 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  he  went  on  thus  even 
\intil  he  came  at  the  bottom,  where  he  saw,  a  little  out 
©f  the  way,  three  men  fast  asleep,  with  fetters  upon 
their  heels.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Simple,  another 
Sloth,  and  the  third  Presumption. 

Christian  then  seeing  them  hying  in  this  case  went  to 
them,  ifperadventure  he  might  awake  them  ;  and  cried, 
You  are  like  them  that  sleep  on  the  top  of  a  mast,*  for 
the  dead  sea  is  under  you,  a  golph  that  hath  no  bottom  : 
.-.,  therefore,  and  come  away  ;  be  willing,  also,  and 
I  will  help  you  off  with  your  irons.  He  also  told  them, 
If  he  that  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion  comes  by,  you 
will  certainly  become  a  prey  to  his  teeth. f  With  that 
they  looked  upon  him,  and  began  to  reply  in  this  sort  : 
Simple  said,  *  I  see  no  danger  :'  Sloth  said,  '  Yet  a  lit- 
tle more  sleep  :'  and  Presumption  said,  k  Every  tub 
must  stand  upon  its  own  bottom.  And  so  they  laid 
down  to  sleep  again,  and  Christian  went  en  his  way. 

Yet  was  he  troubled  to  think  that  men  in  that  danger 
should  so  little  esteem  the  kindness  of  him  that  so  free- 
ly offered  to  help  them,  both  by  the  awakening  of  them, 
counselling  of  them,  and  proffering  to  help  them  off 
with  their  irons.  And  as  he  was  troubled  thereabout, 
he  spied  two  men  come  tumbling  over  the  wall  on  the 
left-hand  of  the  narrow  way  ;  and  they  made  up  apace 
to  him.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Formalist,  and  the 
name  of  the  other  Hypocrisy. 

Chr.    Gentlemen,  whence  come  you,  and  whither  go 


vou 


Form.  Zj?  Hyfi.  We  were  born  in  the  land  ot  Vain- 
glory, and  are  going  for  praise  to  mount  Zion. 

Chr  Why  came  you  not  in  at  the  gate  which  stand- 
eth  at  the  beginning  of  the  way  ?  Know  you  not  that  it 
is  written  that,   "  He  that  cometh  not  in  by  the  door, 

Prov.  xiii.  34.  M  Pet.  v.  8. 


THE    1'IL'G RIM'S    PROGRESS.  €5 

but  climbeth  up  some  other  way,  the  same  is  a  thief  and 
a  robber  V* 

They  said,  that  to  go  to  the  gate  for  entrance  was  by  all 
their  countrymen  counted  too  far  about  ;  and  that  there- 
fore, their  usual  way  was  to  make  a  short  cut  of  it,  and 
to  climb  over  the  wall,  as  they  had  done. 

Chr.  But  will  it  not  be  counted  a  trespass  against  the 
Lord  of  the  city  whither  we  are  bound,  thus  to  violate 
his  revealed  will  ? 

They  told  him,  that,  as  for  that,  he  needeth  not  trouble 
his  head  thereabout ;  for  what  they  did,  they  had  custom 
;  and  could  produce,  if  need  were,  testimony  that 
would  witness  it  for  more  than  a  thousand  years. 

But  said  Christian,  will  vour  practice  stand  trial  at 
law  ? 

They  told  him  that  custom,  it  being  of  so  long  standing 
as  above  a  thousand  years,  would  doubtless  now  be  ad- 
mitted as  a  thing  legal  by  an  impartial  judge  :  and  be- 
tides, say  they,  if  we  get  into  the  way,  what's  matter 
which  way  we  get  in  ?  If  we  are  in,  we  are  in  :  thou 
art  but  in  the  way  :  who,  as  we  perceive,  came  in  at  the 
gate  ;  and  we  are  also  in  the  way,  that  came  tumbling 
over  the  wall  :  wherein  now  is  thy  condition  better  than 
ou  is  ? 

Chr.  I  walk  by  the  rule  of  my  Master,  you  walk  by 
the  rude  working  of  your  fancies.  You  are  counted 
thieves  already  by  the  Lord  of  the  way>  therefore  I  doubt 
you  will  not  be  found  true  men  at  the  end  of  the  way. 
You  come  in  by  yourselves  without  his  direction,  and 
shall  go  out  by  yourselves  without  his  mercy. 

To  this  they  made  but  little  answer  ;  only  they  bid 
him  look  to  himself.  Then  I  saw  that  they  went  on 
every  man  in  his  way,  without  much  conference  one 
with  another ;  save  that  these  two  men  told  Christian, 
that,  as  to  laws  and  ordinances,  they  doubted  not  but 
they  should  as  conscientiously  do  them  as  he,  therefore, 
said  they,  we  see  not  wherein  thou  differest  from  us 
but  by  the  coat  that  is  on  thy  back,  which  was.  as  we 
trow,  given  thee  by  some  of  thy  neighbors,  to  hide  the 
shame  of  thy  nakedness. 

*  John  x.  T. 

F  2 


<56  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

^  Chr.  By  laws  and  ordinances  you  will  not  be  saved,* 
since  you  came  in  not  by  the  door.  And  as  for  this 
coat  that  is  on  my  back,  it  was  given  me  by  the  Lord  of 
the  place  whither  1  go :  and  that,  as  you  say,  to  cover 
my  nakedness  with.  And  I  take  it  a  token  of  kindness 
to  me;  for  I  had  nothing  but  rags  before  :  and  besides, 
thus  I  comfort  myself  as  I  go  :  Surely,  think  I,  when  I 
come  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  the  Lord  thereof  will  know 
me  for  good,  since  I  have  his  coat  on  my  back  !  a  coat 
that  he  gave  me  freely  in  the  day  that  he  stripped  me 
of  my  rags.  I  have  moreover,  a  mark  in  my  forehead, 
of  which,  perhaps,  you  have  taken  no  notice,  which  one 
of  my  Lord's  most  intimate  associates  fixed  there  in  the 
day  that  my  burden  fell  off  my  shoulders.  1  will  tell 
to  you,  moreover,  that  1  had  then  given  me  a  roll  sealed, 
to  comfort  me  by  reading  as  I  go  on  the  way  ;  I  was  al- 
so bid  to  give  it  in  at  the  celestial  gate,  in  token  of  my 
certain  going  in  after  it  :  all  which  things  I  doubt  you 
want,  and  want  them  because  you  came  not  in  at  the 
gate. 

To  these  things  they  gave  him  no  answer  ;  only  they 
looked  upon  each  other  and  laughed.  Then  I  saw  that 
they  went  on  all,  save  that  Christian  kept  before,  who 
had  no  more  taik  but  with  himself,  and  that  sometimes 
sighingly  and  sometimes  comfortably :  also  he  would  be 
often  reading  in  the  roll  that  one  of  the  shining  ones 
gave  him,  by  which  he  was  refreshed. 

I  beheld  then  that  they  all  went  on  till  they  came  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill  Difficulty  ;  at  the  bottom  of  which 
was  a  spring.  There  were  also  in  the  same  place  two 
other  ways  ;  besides  that  which  came  straight  from  the 
gate ;  one  turned  to  the  left  hand  and  the  other  to  the 
Tight,  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill ;  but  the  narrow  way  lay 
right  up  the  hill,  and  the  name  of  the  going  up  the  side 
ofthe  hill  is  called  Difficulty.  Christian  went  now  to  the 
spring,  and  drank  thereof  to  refresh  himself,  f  and  then 
began  to  go  up  the  hill,  saying— 

*  The  hill,  though  high,  1  covet  to  ascenxj, 
The  difficulty  will  not  me  offend  ; 
For  I  perceive  the  way  to  life  lies  here  : 

*Gal.  ii.  Ifr.  flsa.  xlix.  10, 


THE    PIUGRIM's    PROGBESS.  {>? 

Come,  pluck  up,  heart,  let's  neither  faint  ncr  fear. 
Better,  though  difficult,  the  right  way  to  go, 
Tliau  wroug,  though  etis^,  where  the  eud  is  woe.' 

The  other  two  also  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  ;  but 
when  they  saw  that  the  hill  was  steep  and  high,  and 
that  there  were  two  other  ways  to  go;  and  supposing 
also  that  these  two  ways  might  meet  again  with  that  up 
which  Christian  went,  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill, 
therefore  they  were  resolved  to  go  into  those  ways. 
Now  the  name  of  one  of  those  ways  was  Danger,  and 
the  name  of  the  other  Destruction.  So  the  one  took 
the  way  which  is  called  Danger,  which  did  lead  him  in- 
to a  great  wood,  and  the  other  took  directly  up  the  way 
to  Destruction,  which  led  him  into  a  wild  field,  full  of 
dark  mountains,  where  he  stumbled  and  fell,  and  rose 
no  more. 

I  looked  then  after  Christian  to  see  him  go  up  the 
hill,  where  I  perceived  he  fell  from  running  to  going, 
and  from  going  to  clambering  upon  his  hands  and  his 
knees,  because  of  the  steepness  of  the  place  Now  a- 
bout  the  midway  to  the  top  of  the  hill  was  a  pleasant 
arbour  made  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for  the  refreshing 
of  weaiy  travellers ;  thither,  therefore,  Christian  got, 
where  also  he  sat  down  to  rest  him  ;  then  he  pulled  his 
roll  out  of  his  bosom,  and  read  therein  to  his  comfort ; 
he  also  now  began  afresh  to  take  a  review  of  the  coat  or 
garment  that  was  given  him  as  he  stood  by  the  cross. 
Thus  pleasing  himself  a  while,  he  at  last  fell  into  a 
slumber,  and  thence  into  a  fast  sleep,  which  detained 
him  in  that  place  until  it  was  almost  pight ;  and  in  his 
sleep  his  roll  fell  out  of  his  hand.  Now,  as  he  was 
sleeping,  there  came  one  to  him  and  awaked  him,  say- 
ing, "  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard  ;  consider  her  ways, 
and  be  wise."*  And  with  that  Christian  suddenly  star- 
ted up,  and  sped  him  on  his  way,  and  went  apace  till  he 
came  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

Now  when  he  was  got  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  there 
came  two  men  running  to  meet  him  amain  ;  the  name 
of  the  one  was  Timorous,  and  of  the  other  Mistrust :  to 

*  Prov.  vi.  6. 


63  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

whom  Christian  said,  Sirs,  what  is  the  matter  you  run 
the  wrong  way  r  Timorous  answered,  that  they  were 
going  to  the  city  of  Zion,  and  had  got  up  that  difficult 
place  :  but,  said  he,  the  further  we  go  the  more  danger 
we  meet  with ;  wherefore  we  turned,  and  are  going 
back  again. 

Yes,  said  Mistrust,  Lr  just  before  us  lies  a  couple  of 
lions  in  the  way  (whether  sleeping  or  waking  we  know 
not)  and  we  could  not  think,  if  we  came  within  reach, 
but  they  would  presently  pull  us  in  pieces. 

Then  said  Christian,  you  make  me  afraid  :  but  whi- 
ther shall  1  flee  to  be  safe  ?  If  I  go  back  to  my  own 
country,  that  is  prepared  for  fire  and  brimstone,  and  I 
shall  certainly  perish  there  :  if  1  can  get  to  the  celestial 
city,  I  am  sure  to  be  in  safety  there  : — I  must  venture  : 
— to  go  back  is  nothing  but  death  ;  to  go  forward  is  fear 
of  death,  and  life  everlasting  beyond  it  :  I  will  yet  go 
forward.  So  Mistrust  and  Timorous  ran  down  the  bill, 
and  Christian  went  on  his  way.  But  thinking  agai;  i 
what  he  had  heard  from  the  men,  he  felt  in  his  bosom 
for  his  roll,  that  he  might  read  therein  and  be  comfort- 
ed ;  but  he  felt  and  found  it  not.  Then  was  Christian 
in  great  distress,  and  knew  not  what  to  do  ;  for  he  wan- 
ted that  which  used  to  relieve  him,  and  that  which  should 
have  been  his  pass  into  the  celestial  city.  Here  there- 
fore he  began  to  be  much  perplexed,  and  knew  not  what 
to  do.  At  last  he  bethought  himself  that  he  had  slept 
in  the  arbour  that  is  on  the  side  of  the  hill ; — and  falling 
down  upon  his  knees  he  asked  God  forgiveness  for  that 
foolish  act,  and  then  went  back  to  look  for  his  roll.  But 
all  the  way  he  went  back,  who  can  sufficiently  set  forth 
the  sorrow  of  Christian's  heart  ?  Sometimes  he  sighed, 
sometimes  he  wept,  and  oftentimes  he  chid  himself  for 
being  so  foolish  as  to  fall  asleep  in  that  place,  which  was 
erected  only  for  a  little  refreshment  for  his  weariness. 
Thus,  therefore,  he  went  back,  carefully  looking  on  this 
side  and  on  that,  all  the  way  as  he  went,  if  happily  he 
might  find  the  roll  that  had  been  his  comfort  so  many 
times  in  his  journey.  He  went  thus  till  he  came  again 
in  sight  of  the  a»'bor  where  he  sat  and  slept;  but  that 
sight  renewed  his  sorrow  the  more,  by  bringing  again 
even  afresh,  his  evil  of  sleeping  unto  his  naind.     Thus 


the  pilgrim's   PR0GRE«3*  69 

therefore  he  now  went  on  bewailing  his  sinful  sleep, 
saying,  **  O  wretched  man  that  I  am  I"  that  I  should 
sleep  in  the  day  time  !*  that  I  should  sleep  in  the  midst 
of  difficulty  !  that  1  should  so  .indulge  the  flesh,  $s  to  use 
that  rest  for  ease  to  my  flesh,  which  the  Lord  of  the  hill 
hath  erected  only  for  the  relief  of  the  spirits  of  pil- 
grims !  How  many  steps  have  I  took  in  vain  !  Thus  it 
happened  to  Israel,  for  their  sin  they  were  sent  back  a- 
gain  by  the  way  of  the  Red  Sea  :  and  I  am  made  to 
tread  those  steps  with  sorrow,  which  I  might  have  trod 
with  delight,  had  it  not  been  for  this  sinful  sleep.  How 
far  might  I  have  been  on  my  way  by  this  time  !  I  am 
jnade  to  tread  those  steps  thrice  over,  which  I  needed  to 
have  trod  but  oi\c_e  :  yea,  now  also  I  am  like  to  be  benigh- 
ted, for  the  day  is  almost  spent : — O  that  1  had  not  slept! 

Now  by  this  time  he  was  come  to  the  arbour  again, 
where  for  a  while  he  sat  down  and  wept ;  but  at  last  (as 
God  would  have  it)  looking  sorrowfully  down  under  the 
settle,  there  he  spied  his  roll ;  the  which  he  with  trem- 
bling and  haste  catched  up  and  put  in  his  bosom.  But 
who  can  tell  how  joyful  this  man  was  when  he  had  got- 
ten his  roll  again  ?  For  this  roll  was  the  assurance  of 
his  life,  and  acceptance  at  the  desired  haven.  There- 
fore he  laid  it  up  in  his  bosom,  gave  God  thanks  for  di- 
recting his  eye  to  the  place  where  it  lay,  and  with  joy 
and  tears  betook  himself  again  to  his  journey.  But  O 
how  nimbly  now  did  he  go  up  the  rest  of  the  hill ! — Yet 
before  he  got  up,  the  sun  went  down  upon  Christian  ; 
and  this  made  him  again  recall  the  vanity  of  his  sleeping 
to  his  remembrance  ;  and  thus  he  again  began  to  con- 
dole with  himself:  '  O  thou  sinful  sleep  1  how  for  thy 
sake  am  I  like  to  be  benighted  in  my  journey  !  I  must 
walk  without  the  sun,  darkness  must  cover  the  path  of 
my  feet,  and  I  must  hear  the  noise  of  doleful  creatures, 
because  of  my  sinful  sleep  !'  Now  aJ*3  he  remembered 
the  story  that  Mistrust  and  Timorous  told  him  of,  how 
they  were  frighted  with  th£  sight  of  the  lions.  Then 
said  Christian  to  himself  again,  These  beasts  range  in 
the  night  for  their  prey  ;  and  if  they  should  meetwhh 
mc  in  the  dark,  how  should  I  shift  them  ?  how  should  I 

*  1  Thes.  v.  7,  8.    Rev.  ii.  4,  5. 


70 

escape  being  by  them  torn  in  pieces  ?  Thus  he  went  on. 
But,  while  he  was  bewailing  his  unhappy  miscarriage, 
he  lifted  up  his  eyes ;  and,  behold,  there  was  a  very 
stately  palace  before  him,  the  name  of  which  was  Beau- 
tiful, and  it  stood  by  the  highway  side. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  made  haste  and  went 
forward,  that  if  possible  he  might  get  lodging  there. 
Now  before  he  had  gone  far  he  entered  into  a  very  nar- 
row passage,  which  was  about  a  furlong  off  the  ponei's 
lodge ;  and  looking  very  narrowly  before  him  as  he 
went,  he  spied  two  lions  in  the  way.  Now,  thought  he, 
I  see  the  danger  that  Mistrust  and  Timorous  were  dri- 
ven back  by.  (The  lions  were  chained,  but  he  saw  r.ot 
the  chains.)  Then  he  was  afraid,  and  thought  also  him- 
self to  go  back  after  them  ;  for  he  thought  nothing  but 
death  was  before  him.  But  the  porter  at  the  lodge, 
whose  name  is  Watchful,  percerving  that  Christian 
made  a  halt,  as  if  he  would  go  back,  cried  unto  him, 
saying,  l  Is  thy  strength  so  small  ?*  Fear  not  the  lions, 
for  they  are  chained,  and  are  placed  there  for  trial  of 
faith  where  it  is,  and  for  the  discovery  of  those  that  have 
none  :  keep  in  the  midst  of  the  path,  and  no  hurt  shall 
come  unto  thee.' 

Then  I  saw  that  he  went  on  trembling  for  fear  of  the 
lions ;  but  taking  good  heed  to  the  directions  of  the 
porter,  he  heard  them  rear,  but  they  did  him  no  harm. 
Then  he  clapped  his  hands,  and  went  on  till  he  came 
and  stood  before  the  gate  where  the  porter  was.  Then 
said  Christian  to  the  porter,  Sir,  what  house  is  this  ?  and, 
May  I  lodge  here  to  night  ?  The  porter  answered,  This 
house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  and  he  built  it 
for  the  relief  and  security  of  pilgrims.  The  porter  also 
asked  whence  he  was  ?  and  whither  he  was  going  ? 

Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  city  ol  Destruction,  and  am 
going  to  Mount  r^ion  ;  hut,  because  the  sun  is  now  set, 
I  desire,  if  I  may,  to  ledge  here  to  night. 

Por.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Chr.  My  name  is  now  Christian;  but  my  name  at  the 
first  was  Graceless  :  I  came  of  the  race  of  Japheth,f 
whom  God  will  persuade  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem? 

*  Mark-  iv.  40.  f  Gen.  ix.  27. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  7  I 

Pot.  But  how  doth  it  happen  that  you  come  so  late  ? 
The  sun  is  set. 

Chr.  I  had  been  here  sooner,  but  that,  wretched  man 
that  I  am  !  1  slept  in  tne  arbor  that  stands  on  the  hill 
side.  Nay,  I  had,  notwithstanding  that,  been  here  much 
sooner,  but  that  in  my  sleep  I  lost  my  evidence,  and 
came  without  it  to  the  brow  of  the  hill ;  and  then  feeling 
for  it,  and  finding  it  not,  I  was  forced,  with  sorrow  of 
heart,  to  go  back  to  the  place  where  1  slept  my  sleep, 
where  I  found  it,  and  now  I  am  come. 

For.  Well,  I  will  call  out  one  of  the  virgins  of  this 
place,  who  will,  if  she  like  your  talk,  bring  you  in  to 
the  rest  of  the  family,  according  to  the  rules  o.i  the 
house.  So  Watchful  the  porter  rang  a  bell,  at  the 
sound  of  which  came  out  at  the  door  of  the  house,  a 
grave  and  beautiful  damsel,  named  Discretion,  and  ask- 
ed why  she  was  called  ? 

The  porter  answered,  This  man  is  in  a  journey  from 
the  city  of  Destruction  to  Mount  Zion  ;  but  being  wea- 
ry and  benighted,  he  asked  me  if  he  might  lodge  here  to- 
night :  so  I  told  him  I  would  call  for  thee,  who,  after 
discourse  had  with  him,  mayest  do  as  seemeth  thee 
good,  even  according  to  the  law  of  the  house. 

Then  she  asked  him  whence  he  was  ?  and  whither 
lie  was  going  ?  and  he  told  her.  She  asked  him  also 
how  he  got  in  the  way  ?  and  he  told  her.  Then  she 
asked  him  what  he  had  seen  and  met  with  in  the  way  ? 
and  he  told  her.  And  at  last  she  asked  his  name.  So 
he  said,  It  is  Christian  :  and  I  have  so  much  the  more 
a  desire  to  lodge  here  to  night,  because,  by  what  I  per- 
ceive, this  place  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for  the 
relief  and  security  of  Pilgrims.  So  she  smiled,  but  the 
water  stood  in  her  eyes ;  and  after  a  little  pause  she 
said,  I  will  call  forth  two  or  three  more  of  the  family. 
So  she  ran  to  the  door,  and  called  out  Prudence,  Piety, 
and  Charity,  who,  after  a  little  more  discourse  with  him, 
had  him  into  the  family ;  and  many  of  them  meeting 
him  at  the  threshold  of  the  house  said,  *  Come  in,  thou 
blessed  of  the  Lord  ;'  *  this  house  was  built  by  the  Lord 
of  the  hill,  on  purpose  to  entertain  such  pilgrims  in.* 
Then  he  bowed  his  head,  and  followed  them  into  the 
house.      So  when  he  was  came  in  and  sat  down,  they 


gave  him  something  to  drink,  and  consented  together 
that,  until  supper  was  ready,  some  of  them  should  have 
some  particular  discourse  with  Christian,  for  the  best 
improvement  of  time;  and  they  appointed  Piety,  and 
Prudence,  and  Charity,  to  discourse  with  him ;  and  thus 
they  began. 

Pi.  Come,  good  Christian,  since  we  have  been  so  lo- 
ving to  you,  to  receive  you  into  our  house  this  night,  let 
us,  if  perhaps  we  may  better  ourselves  thereby,  talk 
with  you  of  all  things  that  have  happened  to  you  in  your 
pilgrimage. 

Chr.  With  a  very  good  will ;  and  I  am  glad  that  you 
are  so  well  disposed. 

Pi.  What  moved  you  at  first  to  betake  yourself  to  a 
pilgrim's  life  ? 

Chr.  I  was  driven  out  of  my  native  country  by  a 
dreadful  sound  that  was  in  mine  ears  ;  to  wit,  that  una- 
voidable destruction  did  attend  me  if  I  abode  in  that 
place  where  I  was. 

Pi.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  out  of  your 
country  this  way  ? 

Chr.  It  was  as  God  would  have  it ;  for  when  I  was 
under  the  fears  of  destruction,  I  did  not  know  whither 
to  go  ;  but  by  chance  there  came  a  man,  even  to  me  as 
I  was  trembling  and  weeping,  whose  name  is  Evange- 
list, and  he  directed  me  to  the  Wicket-gate,  which  else 
I  should  never  have  found,  and  so  set  me  into  the  way 
that  hath  led  me  directly  to  this  house. 

Pi.  But  did  not  you  come  by  the  house  of  the  Inter- 
preter ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  did  see  such  things  there,  the  remem- 
brance of  which  will  stick  by  me  as  long  as  I  live  ;  es- 
pecially three  things  ;  to  wit,  how  Christ,  in  despite  of 
Satan,  maintains  his  work  of  grace  in  the  heart ;  how 
the  man  had  sinned  himself  quite  out  of  hopes  of  Cod's 
mercy ;  and  also  the  dream  of  him  that  thought  in  his 
sleep  the  day  of  judgment  was  come. 

Pi.  Why,  did  you  hear  him  tell  his  dream  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  a  dreadful  one  it  was,  I  thought ;  it 
made  my  heart  ache,  as  he  was  telling  of  it  ;  but  yet  I 
am  glad  I  heard  it. 

Pi  Was  this  all  yon  saw  at  the  house  of  the  Inter- 
preter ? 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  73 


Chr.  No  ;  he  took  me  and  had  me  where  he  showed 
me  a  stately  palace,  and  how  the  people  were  clad  in 
gold  that  were  in  it ;  and  how  there  came  a  venturous 
man,  and  cut  his  way  through  the  armed  men  that  stood 
in  the  door  to  keep  him  out ;  and  how  he  was  bid  to 
come  in  and  win  eternal  glory  :  methought  those  things 
did  ravish  my  heart.  I  would  have  staid  at  that  g«.od 
man's  house  a  twelve- month,  but  that  I  knew  I  had  fur- 
ther to  go. 

Pi.   And  what  saw  you  else  in  the  way  ? 

Chr.  Saw !  Why,  I  went  but  a  little  further,  and  I 
saw  one,  as  I  thought  in  my  mind,  hang  bleeding  upon 
a  tree  ;  and  the  very  sight  of  him  made  my  burden  fall 
off  my  back  (for  I  groaned  under  a  very  heavy  bui  den, 
but  then  it  fell  down  from  off  me.)  It  was  a  strange  thing 
to  me,  for  I  never  saw  such  a  thing  before  :  yea,  and 
while  I  stood  looking  up  (for  then  I  could  not  forbear 
looking)  three  shining  ones  came  to  me  ;  one  of  them 
testified  that  my  sins  were  forgiven  me  ;  anothei  strip- 
ped me  of  my  rags,  and  gave  me  this  embroidered  coat 
which  you  see  ;  and  the  third  set  the  mark  which  you 
see  in  my  forehead,  and  gave  me  this  sealed  roll  (and 
with  that  he  plucked  it  out  of  his  bosom.) 

Pi.  But  you  saw  more  than  this,  did  you  not  ? 

Chr  The  things  that  I  have  told  you  were  the  best ; 
yet  some  other  matters  Lsaw  ;  as,  namely,  I  saw  three 
men,  Simple.  Sloth,  and  Presumption,  lie  asleep,  a  little 
out  of  the  way  as  I  came,  with  irons  upon  their  heels; 
but  do  you  think  I  could  awake  them  !  I  also  saw  For- 
mality and  Hypocrisy  come  tumbling  over  the  wall  to 
go,  as  they  pretended,  to  Zion.  but  they  were  quickly 
lost  ;  even  as  I  myself  did  tell  them,  but  they  would  not 
believe.  But,  above  all,  I  found  it  hard  work  to  get  up 
this  hill,  and  as  hard  to  come  by  the  lions'  mouths  ;  and 
truly,  if  it  had  not  been  iov  the  good  man,  the  porter, 
that  stands  at  the  gate,  I  do  not  know  but  that,  after  all, 
I  might  i.ave  gone  back  again  ;  but  now  I  thank  God, 
I         here  ;  and  I  thank  you  for  receiving  of  me. 

Then  Prudence  thought  good  to  ask  him  a  few  ques- 
tions, and  desired  his  answer  to  them. 

Pru.  Do  you  not  think  sometimes  of  the  country 
from  whence  you  came  ? 
G 


74  the  pilgrim's  fkogbess. 

Chr.  Yes,  but  with  much  shame  and  detestation  :  tru- 
ly, if  I  had  been  mindful  of  that  country  from  whence  I 
came  out,  I  might  have  had  opportunity  to  have  retur- 
ned; but  now  1  desire  a  better  country,  that  is,  an  hea- 
venly one.*  — 

Pru.  Do  you  not  yet  bear  away  with  you  some  of  the 
tilings  that  then  you  were  conversant  withal  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  but  greatly  against  my  will ;  especially  my 
inward  and  carnal  cogitations,  with  which  all  my  coun- 
trymen, as  well  as  myself,  were  delighted :  but  now  all 
those  things  are  my  grief:  and  might  I  but  choose 
mine  own  things,  I  would  choose  never  to  think  of 
those  things  more  ;  but  when  I  would  be  a  doing  of 
that  which  is  best,  that  which  is  worst  is  with  me.f 

Pru.  Do  you  not  find  sometimes  as  if  those  things 
were  vanquished,  which  at  other  times  are  your  per- 
plexity ? 

Chr.  Yes,  but  that  is  but  seldom ;  but  they  are  to 
me  golden  hours  in  which  such  things  happen  to  me. 

Pru.  Can  you  remember  by  what  means  you  find 
your  annoyances  at  times  as  if  they  were  vanquished  ? 

Chr.  Yes  ;  w  hen  I  think  on  what  I  saw  at  the  cross, 
that  will^do  it ;  and  when  I  look  upon  my  embroidered 
coat,  that  will  do  it ;  and  when  I  look  into  the  roll  that 
I  cany  in  my  bosorl*,  that  will  do  it  ;  and  when  my 
thoughts  wax  warm  about  whither  I  am  going,  that  will 
do  it. 

Pru.  And  what  is  it  that  makes  you  so  desirous  to 
go  to  mount  Zion  ? 

Chr.  Why,  there  I  hope  to  see  him  alive  that  did 
hang  dead  on  the  cross :  and  there  I  hope  to  be  rid  of  all 
those  things,  that  to  this  day  are  in  me,  an  annoyance  to 
me  :  there  they  say  there  is  no  death  ;|  and  there  I  shall 
dwell  with  such  company  as  I  shall  like  best.  For,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  love  him  because  I  was  by  him  eased 
of  my  burden  :  and  I  am  weary  of  my  inward  sickness. 
I  would  fain  be  where  I  shall  die  no  more,  and  with  the 
company  that  shall  continually  cry,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  .* 

Then  said  Charily  to  Christian,  Have  you  a  family  ? 
are  you  a  married  manj 

*  Heb.  xi.  10.       t  Rom.  vii.-       \  Isa.  xxr,  8.  Rev.  xxi;  * 


THE    PILGRIM  8    PROGRESS.  tJ 

Chr.  I  have  a  wife  and  four  small  children. 

Char.  And  why  did  not  you  bring  them  along  with 
you  ? 

Then  Christian  wept,  and  said,  Oh  !  how  willingly 
would  I  have  done  it  t  but  they  were  all  of  them  utterly 
averse  to  my  going  on  pilgrimage. 

Char.  But  you  should  have  talked  to  them,  and  have 
endeavored  to  have  shewn  them  the  danger  of  being 
left  behind. 

Chr.  So  I   did;  and  told   them  also  what  God  had 
wed  to  me  of  the  destruction  of  our  city  ;  but  I  seem- 
to  them  as  one  that   mocked,  and  they  believed  me 
not.* 

Char.  And  did  you  pray  to  God  that  he  would  bless 
your  counsel  to  them  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  that  with  much  affection ;  for  you  must 
think  that  my  wife  and  poor  children  were  very  dear 
unto  me. 

Char.  But  did  you  tell  them  of  your  own  sorrow, 
and  fear  of  destruction  ?  for  I  suppose  the  destruction 
was  visible  enough  to  you. 

Chr.  Yes,  over,  and  over,  and  over.  They  might  al- 
so see  my  fears  in  my  countenance,  in  my  tears,  and  also 
in  my  trembling  under  the  apprehension  of  the  judg- 
ments that  did  hang  over  our  heads  :  but  all  was  not 
sufficient  to  prevail  with  them  to  come  with  me. 

Char.  But  what  could  they  say  for  themselves  why 
they  came  not  ? 

Chr.  Why,  my  wife  was  afraid  of  losing  this  world  ; 
and  my  children  were  given  to  the  foolish  delights  of 
youth  :  so  what  by  one  thing,  and  what  by  another,  they 
left  me  to  wander  in  this  manner  alone. 

Char,  But  did  you  not  with  your  vain  tife  damp  all 
that  you  by  words  used  by  way  of  persuasion  to  bring 
them  away  with  you  ?  t 

Chr.  Indeed,  I  cannot  commend  my  life ;  for  I  am 
conscious  to  myself  of  many  failings  therein  :  I  know 
also,  that  a  man  by  his  conversation  may  soon  overthrow 
what  by  argument  or  persuasion  he  doth  labor  to  fasten 
upon  others  for  their  good.     Yet  this  I  can  say,  I  was 

*  Gen.  \\k.  4, 


76  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

very  wary  of  giving  them  occasion,  by  an  unseemly  ac- 
tion, to  make  them  averse  to  going  on  pilgrimage  Yea, 
for  this  very  thing,  they  would  tell  me  1  was  too  precise  ; 
and  that  I  denied  myself  of  things,  for  their  sakes,  in 
which  they  saw  no  evil.  Nay,  1  think,  I  may  say,  that 
if  what  they  saw  in  me  did  hinder  them,  it  was  my 
threat  tenderness  in  sinning  against  God,  or  of  doing  any 
wrong  to  my  neighbor. 

Cher.  Indeed  Cain  hated  liisbrother,"  because  his  own 
works  were  evil,  and  his  brother's  righteous;"*  and  ii' 
thy  wife  and  children  have  been  offended  with  thee  for 
this,  they  thereby  show  themselves  to  be  implacable  to 
good  ;  and  thou  hast  delivered  thy  soul  from  their  blood.f 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  thus  they  sat  talking 
together  until  supper  was  ready.  So  when  they  had  made 
ready,  they  sat  down  to  meat.  Now  the  table  was  furn- 
ished with  fat  things;  and  with  wine  that  was  well  refin- 
ed ;  and  all  their  talk  at  the  table  was  about  the  Lord  of 
the  hill :  as,  namely,  about  what  he  had  done,  and  where- 
fore he  did  what  he  did,  and  why  he  had  buildcd  that 
house  :  and,  by  what  they  said,  1  perceived  that  he  had 
been  a  great  warrior,  and  had  fought  with  and  slain  him 
that  had  the  power  of  death  \\  but  not  without  great 
danger  to  himself;  which  made  me  love  him  the.  more. 

For,  as  they  said,  and,  l>s  I  believe,  said  Christian,  he 
did  it  with  the  loss  of  much  blood.  But  that  which  put 
glory  of  grace  into  all  he  did,  was,  that-he  did  it  out  of 
pure  love  to  his  country.  And  besides,  there  were 
some  of  them  of  the  household  that  said,  they  had  been, 
and  spoke  with  him  since  he  did  die  on  the  cross ;  and 
they  have  attested,  that  they  had  it  from  his  own  lips, 
that  he  is  such  a  lover  of  poor  pilgrims,  that  the  like  is 
not  to  be  found  from  the  east  to  the  west. 

They,  moreover,  gave  an  instance  of  what  they  affir- 
med, and  that  was,  he  had  stripped  himself  of  his  glory 
that  he  might  do  this  for  the  poor  ;  and  that  they  heard 
him  say  and  affirm,  that  he  would  not  dwell  in  the  moun- 
tain of  Zion  alone.  They  said,  moreover,  that  he  had 
made  many  pilgrims  princes,  though  by  nature  they 

*  John  iii.  12.        +  F./.ek.  iii.  19.         tHeb.  ii.  14, 


THE    PILGRIM'^    PROGRESS.  #7 

were  beggars  bom,  and  their  original  had  been  the 
dunghill.* 

Thus  they  discoursed  together  until  late  at  night ;  and 
after  they  had  committed  themselves  to  their  Lord  for 
protection,  they  betook  themselves  to  rest.  The  pil- 
grim they  laid  in  a  large  upper  chamber,  whose  wind- 
ow opened  towards  the  sun- rising :  the  name  of  the 
chamber  was  Peace,  where  he  slept  till  break  of  day, 
and  then  he  awoke  and  sang — 

*  Where  am  I  now  !  Is  this  the  love  and  care 
Of  Jesus,  for  the  men  that  pilgrims  are 
Thus  to  provide,  that  I  should  be  forgiven, 
And  dwell  already  the  next  door  to  heaven  !' 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  get  up  ;  and,  after  some 
more  discourse,  they  told  him  that  he  should  not  depart 
till  they  had  showed  him  the  rarities  of  the  place.  And 
first  they  had  him  into  the  study,  where  they  showed 
him  records  of  the  greatest  antiquity  :  in  which,  as  I 
remember  my  dream,  they  shewed  him,  first,  the  pedi- 
gree of  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  that  he  was  the  Son  of  the 
Ancient-of-days,  and  came  by  that  eternal  generation  : 
here  also  were  more  fully  recorded  the  acts  that  he  had 
done,  and  the  names  of  many  hundreds  that  he  had'ta- 
ken  into  his  service  ;  and  how  he  had  placed  them  in 
such  habitations  that  could  neither  by  length  of  days, 
nor  decay  of  nature,  be  dissolved. 

Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that 
some  of  his  servants  had  done  :  as  how  they  had  M  sub- 
dued kingdoms,  wrought  righteousness,  obtained  prom- 
ises, stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the  violence 
of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of  weakness 
were  made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight,  and  turned  to 
flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens."! 

Then  they  read  again  in  another  part  of  the  records 
of  the  house,  where  it  was  shewed  liow  willing  the  Lord 
was  to  receive  into  his  favor,  any,  even  any,  though  they 
in  time  past  had  offered  great  aff  onts  to  his  person  and 
proceedings.  Here  also  were  several  other  histories  of 
many  other  famous  things,  of  all  which  Christian  had  a 

*  1  Sam.  ii.  8.    Ps.  exjji.  7.  f  Heb,  xi.  33,  34. 

G  2 


78 

view:  as  of  things  both  ancient  and  modem  ;  together 
with  prophecies  and  predictions  of  things  that  have  their 
certain  accompiishnient,both  to  the  dread  and  amazement 
of  enemies,  and  the  comfort  and  solace  of  pilgrims. 

The  next  day  they  took  him,  and  had  him  into  the 
armory,  where  they  shewed  him  all  manner  of  furniture 
which  their  Lord  had  provided  for  pilgrims,  as  sword, 
shield,  helmet,  breast-plate,  all-prayer,  and  shoes  that 
would  not  wear  out.  And  there  was  here  enough  of 
this  to  harness  out  as  many  men,  for  the  service  of  their 
Lord,  as  there  be  stars  in  the  heaven  for  multitude. 

They  also  shaved  him  someofthe  engines,  with  which 
some  of  his  servants  had  done  wonderful  things.  They 
showed  him  Moses's  rod  ;  the  hammer  and  nail  with 
which  Jael  slew  Siscra;  the  pitchers,  trumpets,  and 
lamps  too,  with  which  Gideon  put  to  flight  the  armies 
ofMidian.  Then  they  showed  him  the  ox's  goad, 
wherewith  Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  men.  They  show- 
ed him  also  the  jaw  bone  with  which  Sampson  did  such 
mighty  feats  ;  they  showed  him  moreover  the  sling  and 
stone  with  winch  David  slew  Goliah  of  Gath  ;  and  the 
sword  also  with  which  their  Lord  will  kill  the  man  of 
sin,  in  the  day  that  he  shall  rise  up  to  the  prey.  They 
showed  him  besides  many  excellent  things  with  which 
Christian  was  much  delighted. — This  done,  they  went 
to  their  rest  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  on  the  morrow  he  got 
up  to  go  forward,  but  they  desired  him  to  stay  till  the 
next  day  also  ;  and  then,  said  they,  we  will,  if  the  day  be 
clear,  show  you  the  Delectable  Mountains  ;  which,  they 
said,  whuld  yet  further  add  to  his  comfort,  because  they 
were  nearer  the  desired  haven  than  the  place  where  at 
presen*  he  was  ;  so  he  consented  and  staid.  When  the 
xrorning  was  up*  they  had  him  to  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  bid  him  look  south  :  so  he  did  ;  and,  behold  at  a 
great  distance  *  he  saw  a  most  pleasant  mountainous 
country,  beautified  with  woods,  vineyards,  fruits  of  all 
sorts,  flowers  also,  with  springs  and  fountains,  very  de- 
lectable to  behold.  Then  he  asked  the  name  of  the 
country.    They  said,  it  was  Emmanuel's  land  ;  and  it 

*  Isa.  xxxiii.  16,  17. 


THE    PiLGRIAl'a    PROGRESS.  79 

is  as  common,  say  they,  as  this  hill  is,  to  and  for  all  the 
pilgrims.  And  when  thou  comest  there,  from  thence 
thou  mayest  see  to  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  eity,  as  the 
shepherds  that  live  there  will  make  appear. 

Now  Christian  bethought  himself  of  setting  forward, 
and  they  were  willing  he  should.  But  first,  said  they, 
let  us  go  again  into  the  armory.  So  they  did  ;  and  when 
he  came  there,  they  harnessed  him  from  head  to  foot 
with  what  was  of  proof,  lest  perhaps  he  should  meet 
with  assaults  in  the  way.  He  being  therefore  thus  ac- 
coutred, walked  out  with  his  friends  to  the  gale,  and 
there  he  abked  the  porter,  if  he  saw  any  pilgrim  pass 
by  ?  Then  the  porter  answered,  Yes. 

Chr.    Pray  did  you  know  him  ? 

Port.  I  asked  his  name,  and  he  told  me  it  was  Faith- 
ful. O,  said  Christian,  I  know  him  :  he  is  my  towrs- 
man,  my  near  neighbor, he  comes  from  the  place  where 
I  was  born  :  how  far  do  you  think  he  may  be  before  ? 

Port.  He  is  got  by  this  time  below  the  hill. 

Well,  said  Christian,  good  porter,  the  Lord  be  with 
thee,  and  add  to  all  thy  blessings  much  increase,  for  the 
kindness  thou  hast  shewed  me. 

Then  he  be^an  to  go  forward  ;  but  Discretion,  Piety, 
Charity,  and  Prudence  would  accompany  him  down  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill.  So  they  went  on  together,  reitera- 
ting their  former  discourses,  till  they  came  to  go  down 
the  hill.  Then  said  Christian,  As  it  was  difficult  com- 
ing up,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  it  is  dangerous  going  down. 
Yes,  said  Prudence,  so  it  is  ;  for  it  is  an  hard  matter  for 
a  man  to  go  down  into  the  valley  of  Humiliation  as  thou 
art  now,  and  to  catch  no  slip  by  the  way  ;  therefore,  said 
they,  are  we  come  out  to  accompany  thee  down  the  hill. 
So  he  began  to  go  down,  but  very  warily,  yet  he  caught 
a  slip  or  two. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  these  good  companions, 
When  Christian  was  gone  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill, 
gave  him  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  a  cluster 
©f  raisins  :  and  then  he  went  on  his  way. 

Whilst  Christian  is  amon?  his  godly  friends, 
Their  golden  mouths  make  him  sufficient  mends 
For  all  his  .,  >f  :  and  when  they  let  him  go. 
Hies  clad  with  northern  steel  from  top  to  toe. 


80 

But  now,  in  this  valley  of  Humiliation,  poor  Christian 
was  hard  put  to  it ;  for  tie  haw  gone  but  a  little  way,  be- 
fore he  spied  a  foul  fiend  coming  over  the  field  to  meet 
him:  his  namei  s  Apollyon.  Then  did  Christian  begin 
to  be  afraid,  and  to  cast  in  his  mind  whether  to  go  back 
or  stand  his  ground.  But  he  considered  again  that  he 
had  no  armour  for  his  back,  and  therefore  thought  that 
to  turn  the  back  to  him  might  give  him  greater  advan- 
tage, with  ease  to  pierce  him  with  his  darts  ;  therefore 
he  resolved  to  venture,  and  stand  his  ground  :  for, 
thought  he,  had  I  no  more  in  mine  eye  than  the  saving 
of  my  life,  it  would  be  the  best  way  to  stand. 

So  he  went  on,  and  Apoiiyon  met  him.  Now  the 
monster  was  hideous  to  behold  :  he  was  clothed  with 
scales  like  a  fish  (and  they  are  his  pride  ;)  he  had  wings 
like  a  dragon,  feet  like  a  bear,  and  out  of  his  belly  came 
fire  and  smoke,  and  his  mouth  was  as  the  mouth  of  a 
lion.  When  he  was  come  up  to  Christian,  he  beheld 
him  with  a  disdainful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to 
question  him. 

jifioL  Whence  came  you  ?  and  whither  are  you  bound  ? 

Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  city  of  Destruction,  which 
is  the  place  of  all  evil,  and  am  going  to  the  city  of  Zion. 

AfioL  By  this  I  perceive  thou  art  one  of  my  subjects ; 
for  all  that  country  is  mine,  and  I  am  the  prince  and  god 
of  it.  How  is  it  then  that  thou  hast  run  away  from  thy 
king  ?  Were  it  not  for  that  I  hope  thou  mayest  do  me 
more  service,  1  would  strike  thee  now  at  one  blow  to 
the  ground. 

Chr.  I  was  born  indeed  in  your  dominions,  but  your 
service  was  hard,  and  your  wages  was  such  as  a  man 
could  not  live  on  ;  "  for  the*  wages  of  sin  is  death;"* 
therefore  when  I  was  come  to  y  v-ars  I  did,  as  other  con- 
siderate persons  do,  look  out  if  perhaps  I  might  mend 
myself. 

AfioL  There  is  no  prince  that  will  thus  lightly  lose 
his  subjects,  neither  will  I  as  yet  lose  thee  ;  but  since 
thou  comp'ainest  of  thy  service  and  wages,  be  content 
to  go  ha'  k ;  what  our  country  will  afford,  I  do  here  pro- 
mise to  give  thee. 

*  Rom.  vi.  23. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS 

81 

Chr.  But  I  have  let  myself  to  another,  even  to  the 
king  of  princes  ;  and  how  can  I  with  fairness  go  back 
with  thee  ! 

jtfiol.  Thou  hast  done  this  according  to  the  proverb, 
*  Change  a  bad  for  a  worse  ;'  but  it  is  ordinary  for  those 
that  nave  professed  themselves  his  servants,  after  a 
while  to  give  him  the  slip,  and  return  again  to  me.  Do 
thou  so  too,  and  all  shall  be  well. 

Chr.  I  have  given  him  my  faith,  and  sworn  my  alle- 
giance to  him  :  how  then  can  I  go  back  from  this,  and 
not  be  hanged  as  a  traitor  I 

AjioU  Thou  didst  the  same  to  me,  and  yet  I  am  wil- 
ling to  pass  by  all,  if  now  thou  wilt  turn  again  and  go 
back. 

Chr.  What  I  promised  thee  was  in  my  nonage  ;  and 
besides,  I  count  that  the  prince  under  whose  banner 
now  1  stand,  is  able  to  absolve  me  ;  yea,  and  to  pardon 
also  what  I  did  as  to  my  compliance  wi+h  thee  :  and, 
besides,  O  thou  destroying  Apodyon,  to  speak  truth,  I 
like  his  service,  his  wages,  his  servants,  his  govern- 
ment, his  company,  and  country,  better  than  thine  ;  and 
therefore  leave  off  to  persuade  me  further ;  I  am  his 
servant,  and  I  will  follow  him. 

Afiol.  Consider  again,  when  thou  art  in  cool  blood, 
what  thou  art  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way  that  thou 
goest.  Thou  knowest  that,  lor  the  most  part,  his  ser- 
vants come  to  an  ill  end,  because  they  are  t.  ansgressors 
against  me  and  my  ways.  How  mai  y  oi  them  have 
been  put  to  shameful  deaths  ? — And  besides,  thou  c.oun- 
test  his  service  better  than  mine,  whereas  he  never  came 
yet  from  the  place  where  he  is  to  deliver  any  that  ser- 
ved him  out  of  their  hands  :  but,  as  forme,  now  many 
times,  as  all  the  world  very  well  knows,  have  I  deliver- 
ed, either  by  power  or  fraud,  those  that  have  faithfully 
served  me,  from  him  and  his,  though  taken  by  them  : 
and  sol  will  deliver  the*. 

Chr.  His  forbearing  at  present  to  deliver  them  is  on 
purpose  to  try  their  love,  whether  they  will  cleave  to 
him  to  the  end  :  and,  as  for  the  ill  end  thou  sayest  they 
come  to,  thnt  is  most  glorious  in  their  account:  for.  for 
present  deliverance,  they  do  not  much  expect  it  ;  for 
they  stay  for  their  glory,  and  then  they  shall  have  it, 


when  their  Prince  comes  in  his  and  the  glory  of  the  an- 
gels. 

A{iol.  Thou  hasl  already  been  unfaithful  in  thy  ser- 
vice to  him  ;  and  how  dost  thou  think  to  receive  wages 
of  him? 

Chr.  Wherein,  O  Apollyon,  have  I  been  unfaithful  to 
him  ? 

Afiol.  Thou  didst  faint  at  first  setting  out,  when  thou 
wast  almost  choaked  in  the  gulph  of  Despond  ;  thou 
didst  attempt  wrong  ways  to  be  rid  of  thy  burden,  where- 
as thou  shouldst  have  stayed  till  thy  Prince  had  taken  it 
off:  thou  didst  sinfully  sleep,  and  lose  thy  choice 
things  :  thou  wast  also  almost  persuaded  to  go  back  at 
the  sight  of  the  lions  :  and  when  thou  talkest  of  thy  jour- 
ney, and  of  what  thou  hast  heard  and  seen,  thou  art  in- 
wardly desirous  of  vain-§lory  in  all  that  thou  sayestor 
doest. 

Chr.  All  this  is  true,  and  much  more  which  thou  hast 
left  out  :  but  the  prince,  whom  I  serve  and  honor,  is 
merciful  and  ready  to  forgive.  But  besides,  these  infir- 
mities possessed  me  in  thy  country :  for  there  I  sucked 
them  in,  and  1  have  groaned  under  them,  being  sorry 
for  them,  and  have  obtained  pardon  of  my  Prince. 

Then  Apollyon  broke  out  into  a  grievous  rage,  say- 
ing, I  am  an  enemy  to  this  Prince  ;  I  hate  his  person, 
his  laws,  and  people  :  I  am  come  out  on  purpose  .to 
withstand  thee. 

Chr.  Apollyon,  beware  what  you  do  ;  for  I  am  in  the 
king's  high- way.  the  way  of  holiness  ;  therefore  take 
heed  to  yourself. 

Then  Apollyon  straddled  quite  over  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  way,  and  said,  I  am  void  of  fear  in  this  matter  ; 
prepare  thyself  to  die  ;  for  I  swear  by  my  infernal  den 
that  thou  shalt  go  no  further  ;  here  will  I  spill  thy  sou!. 

And  with  that  he  threw  a  flaming  dart  at  his  breast  : 
but  Christian  had  a  shield  in  Ms  hand,  with  which  he 
caught  it,  and  so  prevented  the  danger  cf  that. 

Then  did  Christian  draw ;  tor  he  saw  it  was  time  to 
bestir  him  ;  and  Apollyon  as  fast  made  at  him,  throw- 
ing darts  as  thick  as  hail  ;  by  the  which,  notwil    bI 
ing   all  that  Christian   could  do  to  avoid   it,  ApoVn 
wounded  him  in  his  head,  his  hand,  and  foot.     This 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  S3 


made  Christian  give  a  little  back  :  Apollyon,  therefore, 
followed  his  work  amain,  and  Christian  again  took  cour- 
age, and  resisted  as  manfully  as  he  could.  This  sore 
combat  lasted  above  half  a  day,  even  till  Christian  was 
almost  quite  spent  ;  for  you  must  know,  that  Christian, 
by  reason  of  his  wounds,  must  needs  grow  weaker  and 
weaker. 

Then  Apollyon,  spying  his  opportunity,  began  to  ga- 
ther up  close  to  Christian,  and  wrestling  with  him  gave 
him  a  dreadful  fall  ;  and  with  that  Christian's  sword 
flew  out  of  his  hand.  Then  said  Apollyon,  I  am  sure 
of  thee  now  :  and  with  that  he  had  almost  pressed  him 
to  death  ;  so  that  Christian  began  to  despair  of  life.  But, 
as  God  would  have  it,  while  Apollyon  was  fetching  his 
last  blow,  thereby  to  make  a  full  end  of  this  good  man, 
Christian  nimbly  stretched  out  his  hand  for  his  sword, 
and  caught  it,  saying,  "  Rejoice  not  against  me,  O 
mine  enemy  !  when  I  fall,  I  shall  arise  ;"*  and  with 
that  gave  him  a  deadly  thrust,  which  made  him  give 
back  as  one  that  had  received  his  mortal  wound.  Chris- 
tian perceiving  that,  made  at  him  again,  saying,  "  Nay 
in  all  these  things  we  are  more  than  conquerors,  through 
him  that  loved  us  :"t  and  with  that  Apollyon  spread 
forth  his  drc%on*s  wings  and  sped  him  away,  that  Chris- 
tian saw  him  no  more. 

In  this  combat  no  man  can  imagine,  unless  he  had 
seen  and  heard  as  I  did,  what  yelling  and  hideous  roar- 
ing Apollyon  made  all  the  time  of  the  fight ;  he  spake 
like  a  dragon  : — and,  on  the  other  side,  what  sighs  and 
groans  burst  from  Christian's  heart.  I  never  saw  him 
all  the  while  give  so  much  as  one  pleasant  look,  till  he 
perceived  he  had  wounded  Apollyon  with  his  two  edged 
sword ;  then  indeed  he  did  smile  and  look  upward  !  But 
it  was  the  dreadfulest  fight  that  ever  I  saw. 

So  when  the  battle  was  over,  Christian  said,  I  will 
here  give  thanks  to  him  that  hath  delivered  me  cut  of 
the  mouth  of  the  lion,  to  him  that  did  help  me  against 
Apollyon.     And  so  he  did ;  saying, 

4  Great  Beelzebub  the  captain  of  this  fiend, 
Design'd  my  ruin  ;  therefore  to  this  end 

*  Mic.  ii,  3.  f  Rom.  viii.  37—39.    Jaa>.  W.  T- 


34  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

}Ie  sent  him  harness' d  out ;  and  he  with  rage 
'  hellish  was,  did  fiercely  me  engage  : 
blessed  Michael  helped  me,  and  1 
dint  of  sword  did  quickly  make  him  fly  : 
tit  tore  to  him  let  me  gire  lasting  praise 
And  thanks,  and  bless  his  holy  name  always. 

Then  there  came  to  him  an  hand  with  some  of  the 
leaves  of  the  tree  of  life,  the  which  Christian  took  and 
applied  to  the  wounds  that  he  had  received  in  the  battle, 
and  wis  healed  immediately.  He  also  sat  down  in  that 
place  to  eat  bread,  and  to  drink  of  that  bottle  that  was 
given  him  a  little  before  :  *o being  refreshed,  he  addres- 
sed himself  to  his  journey  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his 
hand ;  for  he  said;  I  know  not  but  some  other  enemy 
may  be  at  hand.  But  he  met  with  no  other  affront  from 
Apollyon  quite  through  the  valley. 

Now  at  the  end  of  this  valley  was  another,  called  the 

ley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  ;  and  Christian  must 
needs  go  through  it,  because  the  way  to  the  Celestial 
City  lay  through  the  midst  of  it.  Now  this  valley  is  a 
very  solitary  place.  The  prophet  Jeremiah  thus  des- 
cribes it  :  "A  wilderness,  a  land  of  deserts  and  of  pits; 
aland  of  drought,  and  of  the  shr.dow  of  death  ;  aland 
that  no  man,"  but  a  Christian,  "  passeth  tffrough,  and 
where  no  man  dwelt. "* 

Now  here  Christian  was  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his 
fight  with  Apollyon ;  as  by  the  sequel  you  shall  see. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  when  Christian  was  got 
on  the  borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  there  met  him 
two  men,  children  of  them  that  brought  up  an  evil  re- 
port of  the  good  knd,f  making  haste  to  go  back  ;  to 
whom  Christian  spake  as  follows  : 

Whither  are  you  going  '? 

They  said,  Back  !  back  !  and  we  would  have  you  to 
do  so  too,  if  either  life  or  peace  is  prized  by  you. 

Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  said  Christian. 

Matter  !  said  they  :  We  were  going  that  way  ps  you 
are  going,  and  went  as  far  as  we  durst  ;  and  indeed  we 
were  almost  past  coming  back :  for  had  we  gone  a  lit- 
tle further,  we  had  not  been  here  to  bring  the  news  to 
tliee. 

*  Jer.  ii.  9.  t  Num.  xhi. 


8j 

But  what  have  you  met  with  ?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Why,  we  were  almost  in  the  valley  of  the  Sha- 
dow of  Death  ;•  but  that  by  good  hap  we  looked  before 
us,  and  saw  the  danger  before  we  came  to  it. 

But  what  have  you  seen  ?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Seen  ?  why  the  valley  itself,  which  is  as  dark 
as  pitch  :  we  also  saw  there  the  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and 
dragons  of  the  pit :  we  heard  also  in  the  valley  a  con- 
tinual howling  and  yelling,  as  of  people  under  unuttera- 
ble misery,  who  there  sat  bound  in  affliction  and  irons  ; 
and  over  that  valley  hung  the  discouraging  clouds  of 
confusion  :  death  also  doth  always  spread  his  wing  over 
it.f  In  a  word,  it  is  every  whit  dreadful,  being  utterly 
without  order. 

Then  said  Christian,  I  perceive  not  yet,  by  what  you 
have  said,  but  this  is  my  way  to  the  desired  haven. 

Men.  Be  it  thy  way  :  we  will  not  choose  it  for  ours. 

So  they  parted  ;  and  Christian  went  on  his  way,  but 
still  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  fear  lest  he 
should  be  assaulted. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  so  far  as  this  valley  reached, 
there  was  on  the  right  hand  a  very  steep  ditch  ;  that 
ditch  is  it  into  which  the  blind  hath  led  the  blind  in  all 
ages,  and  have  both  there  miserably  perished.  Again, 
behold  on  the  left  hand  there  was  a  very  dangerous  quag, 
into  which  if  even  a  good  man  falls  he  finds  no  bottom 
for  his  foot  to  stand  on  :  in  this  quag  king  David  once 
did  fall,  and  had,  no  doubt,  therein  been  smothered,  had 
not  he  that  is  able  plucked  him  out4 

The  path-way  was  here  also  exceeding  narrow,  and 
therefore  good  Christian  was  the  more  put  to  it ;  for 
wh^n  he  sought  in  the  dark  to  shun  the  ditch  on  the 
one  hand,  he  was  ready  to  tip  over  into  the  mire  on  the 
other  :  also  when  he  sought  to  escape  the  mire,  without 
great  carefulness  he  would  be  ready  to  fall  into  the  ditch 
Thus  he  went  on,  and  I  heard  him  here  sigh  bitterly  : 
for  besides  the  danger  mentioned  above,  the  path-way 
was  here  so  dark,  that  oftentimes  when  he  lifted  up  his 
foot  to  go  forward,  he  knew  not  where,  nor  upon  what,  ■ 
lie  should  set  it  next. 

*  Psal.  xliv.  19,  *    f  Job  Hi.  5.    x.  22.      t  Psal.  lxix.  n  1 
H 


€8 

About  the  midst  of  the  valley,  I  perceived  the  mouth 
of  hell  to  be,  and  it  stood  also  hard  by  the  wav-side  : 
Now,  thought  Christian,  what  shall  I  do  ?  Arid  ever 
and  anon  the  flame  and  smoke  would  come  out  in  such 
abundance,  with  sparks  and  hideous  noises  (things  that 
cared  not  for  Christian's  sword,  as  did  Apollyon  before) 
that  he  was  forced  to  put  up  his  sword,  and  betake  him- 
self to  another  weapon  called  all-prayer  :  so  he  cried, 
in  my  hearing,  w  O  LoTd,  I  beseech  thee  to  deliver  my 
soul.*"  Thus  he  went  on  a  great  while,  yet  still  the 
flames  would  be  reaching  towards  him  :  also  he  heard 
doleful  voices,  and  rushing  to  and  fro,  6Q  that  sometimes 
he  thought  he  should  be  torn  to  pieces,  or  trodden 
down  like  mire  in  the  streets.  This  frightful  sight  was 
seen,  and  these  dreadful  noises  were  heard  by  him,  for 
several  miles  together :  and  coming  to  a  place  where 
he  thought  he  heard  a  company  of  fiends  coming  for- 
ward to  meet  him,  he  stopt,  and  began  to  muse  what  he 
had  best  to  do  :  sometimes  he  had  half  a  thought  to  go 
back  ;  then  again  he  thought  he  might  be  half  way 
through  the  valley  ;  he  remembered  also  how  he  had 
already  vanquished  many  a  danger  ;  and  that  the  dan- 
ger of  going  back  mightfbe  much  mfe  than  for  to  go 
forward.  So  he  resolved  to  go  on  :  yet  the  fiends  see- 
med to  come  nearer  and  nearer  :  but  when  they  were 
come  even  almost  at  him,  he  cried  out  with  a  most  ve- 
hement voice,  **  I  will  walk  in  the  strength  cf  the  Lord 
God ;"  so  they  gave  back,  and  came  no  fun: 

One  thing  I  would  not  let  slip :  I  took  notice  that 
now  poor  Christian  was  so  confounded  that  he  did  not 
know  his  own  voice :  and  thus  I  perceived  it :  just  when 
he  was  come  over  against  the  mouth  of  the  burning  pit> 
one  of  the  wicked  ones  got  behind  him,  and  stept  up 
softly  to  him,  and  whisperingly  suggested  many  griev- 
our  blasphemies  to  him,  which  he  verily  thought  had 
proceeded  from  Ris  own  mind.  This  put  Christian 
more  to  it  than  any  thing  that  he  met  with  before,  even 
to  think  that  he  should  now  blaspheme  him  that  he  lo- 
ved so  much  before ;  yet  if  he  could  have  helped  it  he 
would  have  done  it :  but  he  had  not  the  discretion  eith- 

*  Psal.  erri.  4.    .  Epbes.  vi.  IB. 


THE    PILGRIM'd    PROGRESS.  87 

cr  to  stop  his  ears  or  to  know  from  whence  those  bias- 
pjiemies  came. 

When  Christian  had  travelled  in  this  disconsolate 
condition  some  considerable  time,  he  thought  he  heard 
the  voice  of  a  man,  as  going  before  him,  saying, 
"  Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death  I  will  fear  no  ill,  for  thou  art  with  me  * 

Then  was  he  glad,  and  that  for  these  reasons  : — first, 
because  he  gathered  from  thence,  that  some  who  feared 
God  were  in  this  valley  as  well  as  himself; — secondly, 
for  that  he  perceived  God  was  with  them,  though  in 
that  dark  and  dismal  state  :  and  why  not,  thought  he, 
with  me  ?  though  by  reason  of  the  impediment  that  at- 
tends this  place  I  cannot  perceive  it  ;f — thirdly,  for  that 
he  hoped  (could  he  overtake  them)  to  have  company 
by  and  by. — So  he  went  on,  and  called  to  him  that  was 
before  ;  but  he  knew  not  what  to  answer  ;  for  that  he 
also  thought  himself  to  be  alone.  And  by  and  by  the 
day  broke :  then  said  Christian,  He  hath  "  turned  the 
shadow  of  death  into  the  morning."t 

Now  morning  being  come  he  looked  back,  not  out  of 
desire  to  return,  but  to  see  by  the  light  of  the  day  what 
hazards  he  had  gone  through  in  the  dark  :  so  he  saw 
more  perfectly  the  ditch  that  was  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  quag  that  was  on  the  other ;  also  how  narrow  the 
way  was  which  led  betwixt  them  both  :  also  now  he  saw 
the  hobgoblins,  and  satyrs,  and  dragons  of  the  pit,  but 
all  afar  off,  for  alter  break  of  the  day  they  came  not 
nigh;  yet  they  were  discovered  to  him  according  to 
that  which  is  written,  iS  He  discovereth  deep  things  out 
of  darkness,  and  bringeth  to  light  the  shadow  of  death."} 

Now  was  Christian  much  affected  at  his  deliverance 
from  all  the  dangers  of  his  solitary  way  ;  which  dangers 
though  he  feared  them  more  before,  yet  he  saw  them 
more  clearly  now,  because  the  light  of  the  day  made 
them  conspicuous  to  him.  And  about  this  time  the 
sun  was  rising  ;  and  this  was  another  mercy  to  Chris- 
tian :  for  you  must  note,  that  though  the  first  part  of  the 
valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  was  dangerous ;  yet  this 
second  part,  which  he  was  yet  to  go,  was,  if  possible,  far 

*  Psal.  xxiii.  4.    f  Job.  is.  1.    }  Amos.  v.  8.     \  Job.  xii.  28. 


88  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

more  dangerous  :  for,  from  the  place  where  he  now 
stood  even  to  the  end  of  the  valley,  the  way  was  all  a- 
long  set  so  full  of  snares,  traps,  gins,  and  nets,  here,  and 
so  full  of  pits,  pitfalls,  deep  holes,  and  shelvings  down, 
there  ;  that  had  it  been  dark,  as  it  was  when  he  came  the 
first  part  of  the  way,  had  he  had  a  thousand  souls,  they 
had  in  reason  been  cast  away  :  but,  as  I  said,  just  now 
the  sun  was  rising.  Then  said  he,  "  His  candle  shineth 
on  my  head,  and  by  his  light  I  go  through  darkness."* 

In  this  light  therefore  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  val- 
ley. Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  at  the  end  of  this 
valley  lay  blood,  bones,ashes  and  mangled  bodies  of  men, 
even  of  pilgrims  that  had  gone  this  way  formerly :  and 
while  1  was  musing  what  should  be  the  reason,  I  spied 
a  little  before  me  a  cave,  where  two  giants,  Pope  and 
Pagan,  dwelt  in  old  time  :  by  whose  power  and  tyranny, 
the  men,  whose  bones,  blood,  ashes,  &c.  lay  there,  were 
cruelly  put  to  death.  But  by  this  place  Christian  went 
without  much  danger,  whereat  I  somewhat  wondered  : 
but  I  have  learnt  since  that  Pagan  has  been  dead  many 
a  day ;  and  as  for  the  other,  though  he  be  yet  alive,  he 
is,  by  reason  of  age,  and  also  of  the  many  shrewd  brush- 
es that  he  met  with  in  his  younger  days,  grown  so  crazy 
and  stiff  in  his  joints,  that  he  now  can  do  little  more 
than  sit  in  his  cave's  mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims  as 
they  go  by,  and  biting  his  nails  because  he  cannot  come 
at  them. 

So  I  saw  that  Christian  went  on  his  way  ;  yet  at  the 
sight  of  the  old  man,  that  sat  in  the  mouth  of  the  cave, 
he  could  not  tell  what  to  think  ;  especially  because  he 
spake  to  him,  though  he  could  not  go  after  him,  saying, 
*  You  will  never  mend  till  more  of  you  be  burned.'  But 
he  held  his  peace,  and  set  a  good  face  on  it,  and  so  went 
by  and  catched  no  hurt.     Then  sang  Christian, 

'  O  world  of  wonders  !  (I  can  say  no  less) 
That  I  should  be  preserv'd  in  that  distress 
That  I  have  met  with  here  !  O  blessed  be 
That  hand  that  from  it  hath  deliver1  d  me ! 
Dangers,  in  darkness,  devils,  hell,  and  sin, 
Bid  compass  me  while  I  this  vale  was  in : 

*  Job  xxix.  3. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRE68.  89 

Yea,  snares,  and  pits,  and  traps,  and  nets,  did  lie 
My  path  about,  that  worthless  silly  I 
Might  have  beeu  catch'd,  entangled,  aud  cast  down  : 
But  since  I  live,  let  Jesus  wear  the  crown.' 

Now  as  Christian  went  on  his  way,  he  came  to  a  lit- 
tle ascent,  which  was  cast  up  on  purpose  that  pilgrims 
might  see  before  them.  Up  there,  therefore,  Chris- 
tian went,  and  looking  forward  he  saw  Faithful  before 
him  upon  his  journey.  Then  said  Christian  aloud,  Ho, 
ho  !  so  ho  !  stay,  and  i  I  will  be  your  companion.'  At 
that  Faithful  looked  behind  him  ;  to  whom  Christian 
cried,  i  Stay,  stay  till  I  come  to  you ;'  bufriaithful  an- 
swered, i  No,  I  am  upon  my  life,  and  the  avenger  '  of 
blood  is  behind  me.' 

At  this  Christian  was  somewhat  moved,  and  putting 
to  all  his  strength,  he  quickly  got  up  with  Faithful,  and 
did  also  over- run  him  ;  so  the  last  was  first.  Then  did 
Christian  vain-gloriously  smile,  because  he  had  gotten 
the  start  of  his  brother  :  but  not  taking  good  heed  to  his 
feet  he  suddenly  stumbled  and  fell,  and  could  not  rise* 
again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  they  went  very  lovingly  on 
together,  and  had  sweet  discourse  of  all  things  that*had 
happened  to  them  in  their  pilgrimage :  and  thus  Chris- 
tian began  : 

My  honored  and  well  beloved  brother  Faithful,  I  am 
glad  that  I  have  overtaken  you  ;  and  that  dod  has  so 
tempered  our  spirits  that  we  can  walk  as  companions  in 
this  so  pleasant  a  path. 

Fait h:  I  had  thought,  dear  friend,  to  have  had  your 
company  quite  from  our  town,  but  you  did  get  the  start 
of  me,  wherefore  I  was  forced  to  come  thus  much  of  the 
way  alone. 

Chr.  How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  city  of  Destruc- 
tion, before  you  set  out  after  me  on  your  pilgrimage  1 

Faith.  Till  I  could  stay  no  longer;  for  there  was 
great  talk  presently  after  you  were  gone  out,  that  our 
city  would  in  a  short  time  with  fire  from  heaven  be 
burned  down  to  the  ground. 

Chr    What !  did  your  neighbors  talk  so  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  it  was  for  a  while  in  every  body's  moutk 


90  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Chr.  What !  and  did  no  more  of  them  but  you  come 
out  to  escape  the  danger  ? 

Faith.  Though  there  was,  as  I  said,  a  great  talk 
thereabout,  yet  I  do  not  think  they  did  firmly' believe  it. 
For,  in  the  heat  of  the  discourse,  J  heard  some  of  them 
deridingly  speak  of  you  and  your  desperate  journey  ; 
for  so  they  called  this  your  pilgrimage.  But  1  did  be- 
lieve, and  do  still,  that  the  end  of  our  city  will  be  with 
fire  and  brim  stone  from  above;  and  therefore  I  have 
made  my  escape. 

Chr.  Did  you  hear  no  talk  of  neighbor  Pliable  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  Christian,  I  heard  that  he  followed  you 
till  he  came  at  the  slough  of  Despond  :  where,  as  some 
said,  he  fell  in  ;  but  he  would  not  be  known  to  have  so 
done  ;  but  I  am  sure  he  was  soundly  bedaubed  with 
that  kind  of  dirt. 

Chr.  And  what  said  the  neighbors  to  him  ? 

Faith.  He  hath  since  his  going  back  been  had  great- 
Jy  in  derision,  and  that  among  all  sorts  of  people ;  some 
do  mock  and  despise  him,  and  scarce  w'.U  any  set  him 
on  work.  He  is  now  seven  times  worse  than  if  he  had 
sever  gone  out  of  the  city. 

"Chr.  But  why  should  they  be  so  set  against  him, 
Since  they  also  despised  the  way,  that  he  forsook  ? 

Faith,  O,  they  say,  'Hang  him  ;  he  is  a  turn-coat ! 
he  was  not  true  to  his  profession  :'  I  think  God  has 
stirred  up  even  his  enemies  to  hiss  at  him,  and  make 
kim  a  proverb,  because  he  hath  forsaken  the  way.* 

€hr.  Had  you  no  talk  with  him  before  you  came  out  ? 

Faith.  I  met  him  once  in  the  streets,  but  he  leered 
sftwiy  on  the  otherTside,  as  one  ashamed  of  what  he  hacU 
dtone  :  so  I  spake  not  to  him.  ^ 

Chr.  Well,  at  my  first  setting- out,  I  had  hopes  of  that 
nan  ;  nut  now  I  fear  he  will  perish  in  the  overthrow 
of  the  city  :  for  "  it  hath  happened  to  him  according 
tothe  true  proverb,  The  dog  is  turned  to  his  vomit  a- 
gain  ;  and  the  sow  that  was  washed,  to  her  wallowing 
i&the  raire"t 

Faith.  They  are  my  fears  of  him  too  :  but  who  can 
Jlinder  that  which  will  be  ? 

•  Jer.  Mix,  18,  19,  1 2  Pet.  ii.  22* 


THE    PlLChiM  S    PROGRESS.  91 

Well,  neighbor  Faithful,  said  Christian,  let  us  leave 
him,  and  talk  of  things  that  more  immediately  concern 
ourselves.  Tell  me  now  what  you  have  met  with  in  the 
way  as  you  came  :  for  I  know  you  have  met  with  some 
things,  or  else  it  may  be  writ  for  a  wonder. 

Faith.  I  escaped  the  slough  that  I  perceived  you  fell 
into,  and  got  up  to  the  gate  without  that  danger  ;  only  I 
met  with  one,  whose  name  was  Wanton,  that  had  like 
to  have  done  me  a  mischief. 

Chr,  It  was  well  you  escaped  her  net  :  Joseph  was 
hard  put  to  it  by  her,  and  he  escaped  her  as  you  did  ; 
but  it  had  like  to  have  cost  him  his  life.*  But  what 
did  she  say  to  you  ? 

Faith.  You  cannot  think,  but  that  you  know  some- 
thing, what  a  flattering  tongue  she  had  ;  she  lay  at  me 
hard  to  turn  aside  with  her,  promising  me  all  manner 
of  content. 

Chr.  Nay,  she  did  not  pron.ise  you  the  content  of  a 
good  conscience. 

Faith.  You  know  that  I  mean  all  carnal  and  fleshly 
content. 

Chr.  Thank  God  you  have  escaped  her,  "the  abhor- 
red of  the  Lord  shall  fall  into  her  ditch.f 

Faith.  Nay,  I  know  not  whether  I  did  wholly  escape 
lier  or  no. 

Chr.  Why,  I  trow  you  did  not  consent  to  her  desires. 

Faith  No,  not  to  defile  myself ;  for  I  remembered 
an -old  writing  that  I  had  seen,  which  said,  "  her  steps 
take  hold  on  hell.5,$  So  I  shut  mine  eyes  because  I 
would  not  be  bewitched  with  her  looks  :  then  she  railed 
on  me,  and  I  went  my  way. 

Chr.  Did  you  meet  with  no  other  assault  as  you 
came  ? 

Faith.  When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  called 
Difficulty,  I  met  with  a  very  aged  man,  who  asked  me 
what  I  was,  and  whither  bound  ?  I  told  him  that  I  was  a 
pilgrim  going  to  the  Celestial  City.  Then  said  the  old 
man,  Thou  lookest  like  an  honest  feHow  ;  wilt  thou  be 
content  to  dwell  with  me  for  the  wages  that  I  shall  give 

*  Gen.  xxxix.  11—13.  f  Prov.  xxii.  14, 

fTrov.  r.&.  Job.  xxxi.  1. 


thee  ?  Then  I  asked  him  his  name,  and  where  he 
dwelt  ?  He  6aid,  His  name  was  Adam  the  first,  and  that 
he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Deceit.*  1  asked  him  then 
what  was  his  work  1  and  what  the  wages  he  would 
give  ;  He  told  me,  that  his  work  was  many  delights  ; 
and  his  wages,  that  1  should  be  his  heir  at  last.  1  fur- 
ther asked  him  what  house  he  kept,  and  what  other  ser- 
vants he  had  ?  So  he  told  me  that  his  house  was  main- 
tained with  all  the  daigties  in  the  world  :  and  that  his 
servants  were  those  of  his  own  begetting.  Theq  I  ask« 
ed  how  many  children  he  had  ?  He  said,  that  he  had 
but  three  daughters,  "  the  Lust  of  the  Fleshy  the  Lust- 
of  the  Eyes,  and  the  Pride  of  Life  ;"t  and  that  1  should 
marry  them  if  I  would. — Then  I  asked  how  long  time 
he  would  havy  me  to  live  with  him  ?  And  he  told  me  as 
long  as  he  lived  himself. 

Chr.  Well,  and  what  conclusion  came  the  old  man 
and  you  to  at  last  ? 

Faith.  Why,  at  first  I  found  myself  somewhat  inclin- 
able to  go  with  the  man,  for  I  thought  he  spake  very 
fair  ;  but  looking  in  his  forehead  as  1  talked  with  him, 
I  saw  there  written,  "  Put  off  the  old  man  with  his 
deeds." 

Chr.  And  how  then  ? 

Faith.  Then  it  came  burning  hot  into  my  mind, 
whatever  he  said,  however  he  flattered,  when  he  got  me 
home  to  his  house,  he  would  sell  me  for  a  slave.  So  I 
forbid  him  forbear  to  talk,  for  I  would  not  come  near 
the  door  of  his  house.  Then  he  reviled  me,  and  told 
me,  that  he  would  send  such  a  one  afier  me  that  should 
make  my  way  bitter  to  my  soul.  So  1  turned  to  go  a- 
way  from  him  ;  but  just  as  I  turned  myself  to  go 
thence,  I  felt  him  take  hold  of  my  flesh,  and  gave  me 
such  a  deadly  twitch  back,  that  I  thought  he  had  pulled 
part  of  me  after  himself:  this  made  me  cry,  O  wretch- 
ed man  l\  So  I  went  on  my  way  up  the  hill. 

Now,  when  I  had  got  about  halfway  up,  I  looked 
behind  me,  and  saw  one  coming  after  me,  swift  as  the 
wind ;  so  he  overtook  me  just  about  the  place  where 
the  settle  stands. 

*  Ephes.  iv.  22.         i  1  John  i).  16,         J  Rom.  vii.  24. 


93 

Just  there,  said  Christian,  did  I  sit  down  to  jfest  me  ; 
but  being  overcome  with  sleep,  I  there  lost  this  roll  out 
of  my  bosom. 

Faith.  But,  good  brother,  hear  me  out :  so  soon  as 
the  man  overtook  me,  he  was  but  a  word  and  a  blow  ; 
for  down  he  knocked  me,  and  laid  me  for  dead.  But 
when  I  was  a  little  come  to  myself  again,  I  asked  him 
wherefore  he  had  served  me  so  ?  He  said,  because  of 
my  secret  inclining  to  Adam  the  first :  and  with  that  he 
struck  me  another  deadly  blow  on  the  breast,  and  beat 
me  down  backwaid  :  so  I  lay  at  his  feet  for  dead  as  be- 
fore. When  I  came  to  myself  again  I  cried  him  mer- 
cy :  but  he  said,  I  know  not  how  to  shew  mercy  ;  and 
with  that  knocked  me  down  again.  He  had  doubtless 
made  an  end  of  me  but  that  one  came  by  and  bid  him 
forbear. 

Chr.  Who  was  it  bid  him  forbear  ? 

Faith.  I  did  not  know  him  at  first,  but  as  he  went  by 
I  perceived  the  holes  in  his  hands  and  in  his  side  :  then 
I  concluded  that  he  was  our  Lord.  So  I  went  up  the 
lull. 

Chr.  The  man  that  overtook  you  was  Moses.  He 
spareth  none,  neither  knoweth  be  how  to  shew  mercy 
to  those  that  transgress  his  law. 

Faith.  I  know  it  very  well  ;  it  was  not  the  first  time 
that  he  has  met  with  me.  It  was  he  that  came  to  me 
when  I  dwelt  securely  at  home,  and  that  told  me  he 
would  burn  my  house  over  my  head  if  I  staid  there. 
.  Chr.  But  did  you  not  see  the  house  that  stood  there 
on  the  top  of  the  hill  on  the  side  of  which  Moses  met 
you  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  and  the  lions  too,  before  I  came  at  it  : 
but,  for  the  lions,  I  think  they,  were  asleep  ;  for  it  was 
about  noon  :  and  because  I  had  so  much  of  the  day  be- 
fore me,  I  passed  by  the  Porter  and  came  down  the 
hill.  i 

Chr.  He  told  me,  indeed,  that  he  saw  you  go  by;  but 
I  wish  you  had  called  at  the  house,  for  they  would  have 
showed  you  so  many  rarities,  that  you  would  scarce 
have  forgot  them  to  the  day  of  your  death.  But  pray 
tell  me,  did  you  meet  nobody  in  the  valley  of  Humility  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  \  met  with  one  Discontent,  who  would 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

willingly  have  persuaded  me  to  go  back  again  with 
him  :  his  reason  was,  for  that  the  valley  was  altogether 
without  honor.  He  told  me  moreover,  that  thereto  go 
was  the  way  to  disoblige  all  my  friends,  as  Pride,  Arro- 
gancy,  Self-conceit,  Worldly-glory,  with  others,  who 
he  knew,  as  he  said,  would  be  very  much  offended  if  I 
made  such  a  fool  of  myself  as  to  wade  through  this  val- 
ley. 

Chr,  Well,  and  how  did  you  answer  him  ? 

Faith,  I  told  him,  That  although  all  these  that  he  na- 
med might  claim  kindred  of  ine,  and  that  rightly  (for 
indeed  they  were  my  relations  according  to  the  flesh  ;) 
yet  since  I  became  a  pilgrim,  they  have  disowned  me, 
and  I  also  rejected  them  \  and  therefore  they  are  to  me 
now  no  more  than  if  they  had  never  been  of  my  lineage. 
I  told  him,  moreover,  that,  as  to  this  valley,  he  had 
quit*;  misrepresented  the  thing  ;  for  M  before  honor  is 
humility,"  li  and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall.?  There- 
fore, said  I,  I  had  rather  go  through  this  valley  to  the 
honour  that  was  so  accounted  by  the  wisest,  than  choose 
that  which  he  esteemed  most  worthy  our  affections. 

Chr.  Met  you  with  nothing  else  in  that  valley  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  I  met  with  Shame  ;  but,  of  all  the  men 
that  I  met  with  in  my  pilgrimage,  he,  I  think,  bears  the 
wrong  name.  The  other  would  be  said  nay,  after  a  lit- 
tle argumentation  and  somewhat  else  :  but  that  bold  fa- 
ced Shame  would  never  have  done. 

Chr.  Why,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ? 

Faith.  What !  why  he  objected  against  religion  it- 
self; he  said,  It  was  a  pitiful,  low,  sneaking  business 
for  a  man  to  mind  religion  ;  he  said,  that  a  tender  con- 
science was  an  unmanly  thing  ;  and  that  for  a  man  to 
watch  over  his  words  and  ways,  so  as  to  tie  up  himself 
from  that  hectoring  liberty  that  the  brave  spirits  of  the 
times  accustom  themselves  unto,  would  make  him  the 
ridicule  of  the  times.  He  objected  also,  that  but  few 
mighty,  rich,  or  wise,  were  ever  of  my  opinion  ;  nor  any 
of  i  hem  neither,  before  they  were  persuaded  to  be  fools, 
and  to  be  of  a  voluntary  fondness  to  venture  the  loss  of 
all  for  nobody  knows  what.*  He  moreover  objected  the 
base  and  low  estate   and  condition  of  those  that  were 

*  John  vii.  48.        1  Cor.  i  26.  hi.  18.        Phil.  ni.  7-0 


the  pilgrim's  procuess.  95 

chiefly  the  pilgrims  of  the  times  in  rcjiich  they  lived; 
also  their  ignorance,  and  want  of  understanding  in  all 
natural  science.  Yea,  he  did  hold  me  to  it  at  that  rate 
also,  about  a  great  many  more  things  than  here  I  re- 
late :  as,  that  it  was  a  shame  to  sit  whining  and  mourn- 
ing under  a  sermon,  and  a  shame  to  come  sighing  and 
groaning  home :  that  it  was  a  shame  to  ask  my  neigh- 
bor forgiveness  for  petty  faults,  or  to  make  restitution 
where  I  have  taken  from  any.  He  said  also,  that  reli- 
gion made  a  man  grow  strange  to  the  great,  because  of 
a  few  vices,  which  are  called  by  finer  names  ;  and 
made  him  own  and  lespect  the  base,  because  of  the 
same  religious  fraternity  :  and  is  not  this,  said  he,  a 
shame  ? 

Chr.  And  what  did  you  say  to  him  ? 

Faith.  Say  !  why  I  could  not  tell  what  to  say  at  first. 
Yea,  he  put  me  so  to  it,  that  my  blood  came  up  in  my 
face  ;  even  this  Shame  fetched  it  up,  and  had  almost 
b$N*me  quite  off.  But  at  last  I  began  to  consider  that 
u  that  which  is  highly  esteemed  among  men  is- had  in 
abomination  with  God."*  And  I  thought  again,  this 
shame  tells  me  what  men  are  :  but  it  tells  m^notfeing 
what  God  or  the  word  of  God  is.— And  I  thought,  more- 
over, that  at  the  day  of  doom  we  shall  not  be  doomed  to 
death  or  life,  according  to  the  hectoring  spirits  of  the 
world,  but  according  to  the  wisdom  of  the  law  of  the 
Highctt.  Therefore,  thought  I,  what  God  says  is  best, 
though  all  the  men  in  the  world  are  against  it  :  seeing 
then  that  God  prefers  his  religion  ;  seeing  God  prefers 
tender  conscience ;  seeing  they  that  make  themselves 
fools  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  are  wisest ;  and  that 
the  poor  man  that  loveth  Christ  is  richer  than  the  grea- 
test man  in  the  world  that  hates  him — Shame,  depart, 
thou  art  an  enemy  to  my  salvation ;  shall  I  entertain 
thee  against  my  sovereign  Lord  ?  how  then  shall  I  look 
him  in  the  face  at  his  coming  ?  ShouM  I  now  be  asha- 
med of  his  ways  and  servants,  how  can  I  expect  the 
blessing  ?f  But  indeed  this  Shame  was  a  bold  villain  : 
I  could  scarce  shake  him  out  of  my  company  :  yea,  he 
Would  be  haunting  of  me,  and  continually  whispering 
me  in  the  ear,  with  some  one  or  other  of  the  infirmities 

*  Luke  rri,  15.  t  Mark  vui.  38. 


96 

that  attend  religion  :  but  at  last  I  told  him,  it  was  but  in 
vain  to  attempt  further  in  this  business  ;  for  those  things 
that  he  disdained,  in  those  did  I  see  most  glory  :  and 
so  at  last  I  got  past  this  importunate  one.  And  when  I 
had  shaken  him  off,  then  I  began  to  sing  : 

•  The  trials  that  those  men  do  meet  withal, 

That  are  obedient  to  the  heavenly  call, 

Are  manifold  and  suited  to  the  flesh, 

And  come,  and  come,  and  come  again  afresh  ; 

That  now,  or  some  times  else,  we  by  them  may 

Be  taken,  overcome,  or  cast  away. 

O  let  the  pilgrims,  let  the  pilgrims  then 

He  vigilant,  and  quit  themselves  like  men/ 

Chr.  I  am  glad,  my  brother,  that  thou  didst  with- 
stand this  villain  so  bravely  ;  for  of  all,  as  thou  sayest, 
I  think  he  has  the  wrong  name  :  for  he  is  so  bold  as  to 
iollow  us  in  the  streets,  and  to  attempt  to  put  us  to 
shame  before  all  men  ;  that  is,  to  make  us  ashamed  of 
that  which  is  good.  But  if  he  was  not  himself  auda- 
cious, he  would  never  attempt  to  do  as  he  does  :  but  let 
us  still  insist  him  ;  for  notwithstanding  all  his  brava- 
does he  promoteth  the  fool,  and  none  else. — ^  The  wise 
shall  inherit  glory,"  said  Solomon  ;  "  but  shame  shall 
be  the  promotion  of  fools."* 

Faith.  I  think  we  must  cry  to  Him,  for  help  against 
Shame,  that  would  have  us  be  valiant  for  truth  upon 
the  earth. 

Chr.  You  say  true  :  but  did  you  meet  with  nobody 
else  in  that  valley  ? 

Faith.  vNo,  not  I  ;  for  I  had  sun-shine  all  the  rest  of 
titigfee  way  through  that,  and  also  through  the  valley  of  the 
*  Shadow  of  Death. 

Chr.  It  was  well  for  you  ;  I  am  sure  it  fared  far  oth- 
erwise with  me  :  I  had  for  a  long  season,  as  soon  as  al- 
most I  entered  into  that  valley,  a  dreadful  battle  with 
that  foul  fiend  Apollyon  ;  yea,  I  thought  verily  he  would 
have  killed  me,  especially  wlv  n  he  got  me  down,  and 
crushed  me  under  him,  as  if  he  would  have  crushed  me 
to  pieces  :  for  as  he  threw  me,  my  sword  flew  out  of  my 

*  1'rov.  iii.  35. 


ihe  pilgrim's  pkoghess.  9? 

hand  ;  nay,  he  told  me  he  was  sure  of  me  ;  but  1  cried 
to  God,  and  he  heard  me,  and  delivered  me  out  of  all 
my  troubles.  Then  I  entered  into  the  valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  and  had  no  light  for  almost  halt  the 
way  through  it.  I  thought  1  should  have  been  killed 
there  over  and  over  :  but  at  last  day  broke,  and  the  sun 
rose,  and  I  went  through  that  which  was  behind  with  far 
more  ease  and  quiet. 

Moreover  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that,  as  they  went  on, 
Faithful,  as  he  chanced  to  look  on  one  side,  saw  a  man 
whose  name  is  Talkative,  walking  at  a  distance  beside 
them  ;  for  in  this  place  there  was  room  enough  for 
them  all  to  walk.  He  was  a  tall  man,  and  something 
moie  comely  at  a  distance  than  at  hand.  To  this  man 
Faithful  addressed  himself  in  this  manner  : 

Friend,  whither  away  ?  are  you  going  to  the  heavenly 
country  ? 

Talk.  I  am  going  to  the  same  place. 

Faith.  That  is  well  ;  then  I  hope  we  may  have  your 
good  company. 

Talk.  With  a  very  good  will,  will  I  be  your  compan- 
ion. 

Faith.  Come  on  then,  and  let  us  go  together,  and  let 
us  spend  our  time  in  discoursing  of  things  that  are  pro- 
fitable. 

Talk.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good,  to  me  is  very 
acceptable,  with  you  or  with  any  other  ;  and  I  am  glad 
that  I  have  met  with  those  that  incline  to  so  good  a 
work  ;  for  to  speak  the  truth,  there  are  but  few  that 
care  thus  to  spend  their  time  as  they  are  in  their  travels; 
but  choose  much  rather  to  be  speaking  of  things  to  no 
profit ;  and  this  hath  been  a  trouble  to  me. 

Faith.  That  is  iivleed  a  thing  to  be  lamented  :  for 
what  thing  so  worthy  of  the  use  of  the  tongue  and 
mouth  of  men  on  earth,  as  are  the  things  of  the  God  of 
heaven  ? 

Talk.  I  like  you  wonderful  well,  for  your  sayings  are 
full  of  conviction  : — and,  I  will  add,  what  things  are  so 
peasant,  and  what  so  profitable,  as  to  talk  of  the  things 
;    of  God? 

What  things  *o  pleasant  ?  that  «,  if  a  man  hath  any 
delight  in  things  that  are  wonderful:  for  instance,  it  a 

I 


9fl  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

man  doth  delight  to  talk  of  the  history  r  The  mystery  of 
things  ;  or  if  a  man  doth  iove  to  talk  of  miracles,  won- 
ders, or  signs,— where  shall  he  find  tilings  recorded  so 
delightful,  and  so  sweetly  penned  as  in  the  holy  scrip- 
ture ? 

Faith.  That's  true :  but  to  be  profited  by  suaVthings 
in  our  talk  be  our  chief  design. 

Talk.  That  is  it  that  I  said  ;  for  to  talk  of  such  things 
is  most  profitable  ;  for  by  so  doing  a  man  may  get 
knowledge  of  many  things  ;  a*  of  the  vanity  of  earthly 
things,  and  the  benefit  of  things  above  Tnus  in  gener- 
al :  but  more  particularly,  by  this  a  man  may  learn  the 
necessity  of  the  new  birth  ;  the  insufficiency  of  our 
works  ;  the  need  of  Christ's  righteousness,  &c.  Be- 
sides, by  this  a  man  may  learn  what  it  is  to  repent,  to 
believe,  to  pray,  to  suffer,  or  the  like ;  by  this  also  ar 
man  may  learn  what  are  the  great  promises  and  conso- 
lations of  the  gospel,  to  his  own  comfort.  Further,  by 
this  a  man  may  learn  to  refute  false  opinions,  to  vindi- 
cate the  truth,  and  also  to  instruct  the  ignorant. 

Faith.  All  this  is  tr\ie,  and  glad  am  I  to  hear  these 
things  from  you. 

Talk.  Alas  !  t'ie  want  ot  this  is  the  cause  that  so  few 
understand  the  need  of  faith,  and  the  necessity  of  a 
work  of  grace  in  their  soul,  in  order  to  eternal  life ; 
but  ignorantly  live  in  the  works  of  the  law,  by  the 
which  a  man  can  by  no  means  obtain  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

Faith.  But,  by  your  leave,  heavenly  knowledge  of 
these  is  the  gift  of  God  ;  no  man  attaineth  to  them  by 
human  industry,  or  only  by  the  talk  of  them. 

Talk.  All  that  I  know  very  well  :  for  a  man  can  re- 
ceive nothing  except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven  ;  all 
is  of  grace,  not  of  works  :  I  could  give  you  an  hundred 
scriptures  for  the  confirmation  of  this. 

Well  then,  ^aid  Faithful,  what  is  that  one  thing  that 
we  shall  at  this  time  found  our  discourse  upon. 

Talk.  What  you  will :  I  will  talk  of  things  heavenly 
or  things  earthly  ;  things  moral  or  things  evangelical ; 
things  sacred  or  things  profane  ;  things  past  or  things 
*.»  come  i  things  foreign  or  things  at  home  ;  thin 


99 

more  essential  or  things  circumstantial ;  provided  that 
tfi       done  to  our  profit. 

Kfow  did  Faitnful  begin  to  wonder;  and  stepping  to 
Christian  (for  he  walked  all  this  while  by  himself)  he 
said  to  him,  but  softly,  What  a  brave  companion  have 
we  got !  surely  this  man  will  make  a  very  excellent  pil- 
grim. 

At  this  Christian  modestly  smiled,  and  -said,  This 
man,  with  whom  you  are  so  taken,  will  beguile  with 
this  tongue  of  his.  twenty  of  them  who  know  him  not. 

Faith.  Do  you  know  him  then  ? 

Chr.  Know  him  !  yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

Faith.  Pray  what  is  he  ? 

Chr.  His  name  is  Talkative;  he  dwelleth  in  our 
town  ;  I  wonder  that  you  should  be  a  stranger  to  him  ; 
only  I  consider  that  our  town  is  large. 

Faith.  Whose  son  is  he  ?  and  whereabouts  doth  he 
dwell  ? 

Chr.  He  is  the  son  of  one  Say- well,  he  dwelt  in  Prat* 
ing-row  ;  and  is  known,  of  all  that  are  acquainted  with 
him,  by  the  name  of  Talkative  in  Prating-row  ;  and  not" 
withstanding  his  fine  tongue,  he  is  but  a  sorry  fellow. 

Faith.   Well  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  man. 

Chr.  That  is,  to  them  that  have  not  a  thorough  ac- 
quaintance with  him  ;  for  he  is  best  abroad,  near  home 
he  is  ugly  enough  ;  your  saying  that  he  is  a  pretty  man, 
brings  to  my  mind  what  I  have  observed  in  the  works 
of  the  painter,  whose  pictures  show  better  at  a  distance, 
but  very  near,  more  unpleasing. 

Faith.  I  am  ready  to  think  you  do  but  jest,  because 
you  smiled. 

Chr.  God  forbid  that  I  should  jest  (though  I  smiled) 
in  this  matter,  or  that  I  should  accuse  any  falsely — I 
will  give  you  a  further  discovery  of  him  :  this  man  is 
for  any  company,  and  for  any  talk  ;  as  he  talketh  now 
with  you,  so  will  he  talk  when  he  is  on  the  ale-bench  ; 
and  the  more  drink  he  hath  in  his  crown,  the  more  of 
these  things  he  hath  in  his  mouth  :  religion  hath  no 
place  in  his  heart,  or  house,  or  conversation ;  all  he 
hath  lieth  in  his  tongue,  and  his  religion  is  to  make  a 
".oil?  therewith. 


1Q0  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

Faith.  Say  you  so  ?  then  I  am  in  this  man  greatly 
deceived. 

Chr.  Deceived  !  you  may  be  sure  of  it  :  remember 
the  proverb,  "  They  say,  and  do  not  :"  but  "  the  king- 
d<  m  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in  power."*  He  talketh 
of  prayer,  of  repentance,  of  faith,  and  of  the  new  birth  : 
but  he  knows  but  only  to  talk  of  them.  I  have  been 
in  his  family,  and  have  observed  him  both  at  heme  and 
abroad  ;  and  I  know  what  I  say  of  him  is  the  truth.  His 
house  is  as  empty  of  religion  as  the  white  of  an  egg  is 
of  savour.  There  is  there  neither  prayer,  nor  sign  of 
repentance  for  sin  ;  yea,  the  brute,  in  his  kind,  serves 
God  far  better  than  he.  He  is  the  very  stain,  reproach, 
and  shame,  of  religion,  to  all  that  know  him  :f  it  can 
hardly  have  a  good  wore  in  all  that  end  of  the  town 
where  he  dwells,  through  him.  Thus  say  the  common 
people  that  know  him,—'  A  saint  abroad,  and  a  devil  at 
home.'  His  poor  family  finds  it  so;  he  is  such  a  churl, 
such  a  railer  at  and  so  unreasonable  with  his  servants, 
that  they  neither  know  how  to  do  for,  or  speak' to  him. 
Men  that  have  any  dealings  with  him  say  it  is  better  to 
deal  with  a  Turk  than  with  him;  for  fairer  dealings 
they  shall  have  -at  his  hands.  This  Talkative,  if  it  be 
possible  will  go  beyond  them,  defraud,  beguile,  and 
overreach  them.  Besides,  he  brings  up  his  sons  to 
follow  his  steps;  and  if  he  finds  in  any  of  them  a  c/oo/- 
ish  amorousness*  (for  so  he  calls  the  first  appearance  of 
a  tender  conscience)  he  calls  them  fools  and  block- 
heads, and  by  no  means  will  employ  them  in  much,  or 
speak  to  their  commendations  before  others.  For  my 
part,  I  am  of  opinion  that  he  has  by  his  wicked  life  cau- 
sed many  to  stnmbfc  and  fall ;  and  will  be,  if  God  pre- 
vents not,  the  ruin  of  many  more. 

Faith.  Well,  my  brother,  1  am  bound  to  believe  you  ; 
nor  only  because  y  u  say  yon  krow  him,  but  also  be- 
cause like  a  Christian  you  mi'ke  your  reports  of  men. 
for  I  cannot  think  that  you  sp^ak  those  things  of  ill 
will,  but  because:  it  is  even  so  as  you  say. 

CUr.  Had  I  known  him  no  more  than  you,  I  might 
perhaps  have  thought  of  him  as  at  first  you  did  : 
had  he  received  this  report  at  their  hands  only,  that  arc 

*  Matt.  XK'ii.  3.     1  Cor.  iv.  %0.  \  Rem.  ii.  23,  24, 


*HE   PILGRIM'S    PR0ARE8S.  10J 

enemies  to  religion,  I  should  have  thought  it  had  been 
a  siander  (a  lot  that  often  fclls  from  bad  men's  mouths, 
upon  good  men's  names  and  professions :)  but  all  these 
tilings,  yea,  and  a  great  many  more  as  bad,  of  my  own 
knowledge,  I  can  prove  him  guilty  of.  Besides,  good 
men  are  ashamed  of  him  ;  they  can  neither  call  him  bro- 
ther nor  friend  :  the  very  naming  of  him  among  them, 
makes  them  blush,  if  they  know  him. 

Faith.  Well,  1  see  that  saying  and  doing  are  two 
things,  and  hereafter  1  shall  better  observe  this  distinc- 
tion. 

Chr.  They  are  two  things  indeed,  and  are  as  diverse 
as  are  the  soul  and  the  body  ;  for,  as  the  body  without 
the  soul  is  but  a  dead  carcase,  so  saying,  if  it  be  alone 
is  but  a  dead  carcase  also.  The  soul  of  religion  is  the 
practical  part :  "  pure  religion  and  undefiled,  before 
God  the  Father,  is  this  :  to  visit  the  fatherless  and  wid- 
ows in  their  affliction,  and  to  keep  himself  unspotted 
from  the  world."*  This,  Talkative  is  not  aware  of ;  he 
thinks  that  hearing  and  saying  will  make  a  good  Chris- 
tian ;  and  thus  he  deceiveth  his  own  spul.  Hearing  is 
but  as  the  sowing  of  the  seed  ;  talking  is  not  sufficient 
to  prove  that  fruit  is  irdeed  in  the  heart  and  life  :  and 
let  us  assure  ourselves  that  at  the  day  of  doom  men 
shall  be  judged  according  to  their  fruits  :f  it  will  not  be 
said  then,  i  Did  you  believe  V  but,  '  Were  you  doers, 
or  talkers  only  V  and  accordingly  shall  they  be  judged. 
The  end  of  the  world  is  compared  to  our  harvest :  and 
you  know  men  at  harvest  regard  nothing  but  fruit. 
Not  that  any  thing  can  be  accepted  that  is  not  of  faith  j 
but  1  speak  this  to  shew  you  how  insignificant  the  pro- 
fession of  Talkative  will  be  at  that  day 

Faith.  This  brings  to  my  mind  that  of  Moses,  by 
which  he  described  the  beast  that  is  clean  :$ — he  is 
such  an  one  that  parteth  the  hoof  and  cheweth  the  cud ; 
not  that  parteth  the  hoof  only,  or  that  cheweth  the  cud 
only.  The  hare  cheweth  the  cud,  but  yet  is  unclean, 
because  he  parteth  not  the  hoof.  And  this  truly  re- 
sembles Talkative ;  he  cheweth  the  cud,  he  seeketh 
knowledge !  he  cheweth  upon  the  word  ;  but  he  divi- 

*  James,  i.  22—27.    f  Matt.  *iii.  23.    %  Lev,  Ji,  Dent,  xiv' 
I  2 


102 

deth  not  the  hoof,  he  parteth  not  with  the  way  of  sin- 
ners; but,  as  the  hare,  he  r$£neth  the  foot  of  a  dog  or 
bear,  and  therefore  he  is  unclean. 

Chr.  You  have  sptfken*  for  aught  1  know,  the  true 
gospel  sense  of  these  texts.  And  I  will  add  another 
thing  :  Paul  calleth  some  men,  yea.  and  tnose  great  tal- 
kers too,  "  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals  ;"  that 
is,  as  he  expounds  them  in  another  place,  l»  things  *>  kn- 
out life  giving  sound."*  "Things  without  life  ;"  tnat 
is  without  the  true  faith  and  grace  of  the  gospel  ;  and 
consequently  things  that  shall  never  be  placed  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  among  those  that  are  the  children 
of  life,  though  their  sound,  by  their  talk,  be  as  it  were 
the  tongue  or  voice  of  an  angel. 

Faith.  Well,  I  was  not  so  fond  of  his  company  at 
first,  but  am  as  sick  of  it  now.  What  shall  we  do  to  be 
rid  of  him  ? 

Chr.  Take  my  advice,  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  and  you 
shall  find  that  he  will  soon  be  sick  of  your  company  too, 
except  God  shall  touch  his  heart  and  turn  it. 

Faith.  What  would  you  have  me  to  do  ? 

Chr.  Why,  go  to  him,  and  enter  into  some  serious 
discourse  about  the  fiower  of  religion ;  and  ask  him 
plainly  when  he  has  approved  of  it  (for  that  he  will) 
whether  this  thing  be  set  up  in  his  heart,  house,  or  con- 
versation ? 

Then  Faithful  stepped  forward  again,  and  said  to 
Talkative,  Come,  what  cheer  ?  how  is  it  now  ? 

Talk.  Thank  you,  well ;  1  thought  we  should  have 
liad  a  great  deal  of  talk  by  this  time. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will,  we  will  fall  to  it  now  ;  and 
since  you  left  it  with  me  to  state  the  question,  let  it  be 
this  :  How  doth  the  saving  grace  of  God  discover  itself 
When  it  is  in  the  heart  of  man  ? 

Talk.  I  perceive,  then,  that  our  talk  must  be  about 
the  paver  of  things  :  well,  it  is  a  very  good  question, 
and  1  shall  be  willing  to  answer  you  :  and  take  my  an- 
swer in  brief  thus  :  first,  where  the  grace  of  God  is  m 
the  he-m,  it  causeth  there  a  great  outcry  against  sm. 

Secondly, —  . :         -  t 

Faith.    Nay,  hold,  let  us  consider  of  one  at  once  :  I 

*  Cor,  xiii.  1—3.  *iv.  7. 


103 

think  you  should  rather  say,  it  shows  itself  by  inclining 
the  soul  to  abhor  its  sin 

'     Talk.  Why,  what  difference  is  there  between  crying 
out  against,  and  abhorring  of,  sin  ? 

Faith.  Oh  !  a  great  deal.  A  man  may  cry  out  against 
sin  of  poli«  y,  but  cannot  abhor  it,  but  by  virtue  of  a  god- 
ly antipathy  against  it:  1  have  heard  ma.-y  cry  out  a- 
gainst  sin  in  the  pulpit,  who  yet  can  abide  it  well  enough 
in  the  heart,  house  and  conversation.  Joseph's  mistress 
cried  with  a  loud  voice,  as  if  she  had  been  very  holy  ; 
but  she  would  willingly  notwithstanding  that,  have  com- 
mitted uncleanliness  with  him*  Some  cry  out  a- 
gai:;st  sin,  even  as  the  mother  cries  out  against  her  chi'd 
in  her  lap,  when  she  calleth  it  slut,  and  naughty  girl, 
and  then  falls  to  hugging  and  kissing  it. 

Taih.  You  lie  at  the  catch,  I  perceive. 

Faith  No,  not  I  ;  I  am  only  for  setting  things  right. 
But  what  is  the  second  thing  whereby  you  will  prove  a 
discovery  of  a  work  of  grace  in  the  heart  '. 

Talk.  Great  knowledge  of  gospel  mysteries. 

Faith.  This  sign  should  have  been  first  :  but  first  Or 
last,  it  is  also  false  ;  for  knowledge,  great  knowledge, 
may  be  obtained  in  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel,  and  yet 
no  work  of  grace  in  tho  sou'.f  Yea,  if  a  man.  have  all 
knowledge,  he  may  yet  be  nothing,  and  so  consequently 
be  no  child  of  God.  When  Christ  said,  '  Do  ye  know 
of  all  these  things?"  and  the  disciples  had  answered) 
Yes,  he  added,  4i  Biessed  are  ye,  if  ye  do  them."  He 
cloth  not  lay  the  blessing  in  the  knowing  of  them,  but  in 
the  doing  of  them.  For  there  is  a  knowledge  that  is  not 
attended  with  doing  :  "  he  that  knoweth  his  master's 
will  and  doeth  it  not  "  A  man  may  know  like  an  angel, 
and  yet  be  no  Christian  :  therefore  your  sign  of  it  is  not 
true.  Indeed,  to  know,  is  a  thing  that  pleaseth  talkers 
and  boasters;  but  to  do,  is  that  whieh  pleaseth  God. 
Not  that  the  heart  can  be  good  withouf"knowledge  ;  for 
without  that  the  heart  is  naught.  There  are  therefore 
two  sorts  of  knowledge  :  knowledge  that  rcsteth  in  the 
bare  speculation  of  things,  and  knowledge  that  is  accom- 
panied with  the  grace  of  faith  and  love;  which  puts  a 
man  upon  doing  even  the  will  cf  God  from  the  heart ; 

*  Gen.  xzxJz.  11—15.     f  1  Cor.  iiii.    J  Psal,  cjtix.  34. 


104 

the  first  of  these  will  serve  the  talker  ;  but  without  the 
other, the  Christian  is  not  content  :  "  Give  me  under- 
standing, and  I  shall  keep  thy  law  ;  yea,  I  shall  observe 
it  with  my  whole  heart."* 

Talk.  You  lie  at  the  catdi  again  ;  this  is  not  for  edi- 
fication. 

Faith  Well,  if  you  please,  propound  another  sign 
how  this  work  of  grace  clisccveieth  ilseif  where  it  is. 

Talk.  Not  I ;  for  I  see  we  shall  not  agree. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will  not,  will  you  give  me  leave 
to  do  it  ? 

Talk.    You  may  use  your  liberty. 

Faith.  A  work  of  grace  in  the  soul  discovereth  it- 
self, either  to  him  that  hath  it,  or  to  standers  by. 

To  him  that  hath  it,  thus  :  it  gives  him  conviction 
of  sin,  especially  of  the  defilement  of  his  nature,  and  the 
sin  of  unbelief,  for  the  sake  of  whicu,  he  is  sure  to  be 
damned,  if  he  findeth  not  mercy  at  God's  hand,  by  faith 
in  Jksus  Christ.f  This  sight  and  sense  of  things  wor- 
keth  in  him  sorrow  and  shame  for  sin  ;  he  findeth, 
moreover,  revealed  in  him  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
and  the  absolute  necessity  of  closing  with  him  for  life  ; 
at  the  which  he  findeth  hungerings  and  thirstings  after 
him  ;  to  which  hungerings,  &c.  the  promise  is  made.J 
Now  according  to  the  strength  or  weakness  of  his  faith 
in  his  Saviour,  so  his  joy  and  peace,  so  is  his  love  to  ho- 
liness, so  are  his  desires  to  know  him  more,  and  also  to 
serve  him  more  in  this  world.  But  though,  I  say,  it 
discovereth  itself  thus  unto  him,  yet  it  is  but  seldom  that 
he  is  able  to  conclude,  that  this  is  a  work  oi  grace  :  be- 
cause his  corruptions  now,  and  his  abused  reason,  make 
his  mind  to  misjudge  in  this  matter  :  therefore  in  him 
that  hath  this  work,  there  is  required  a  very  sound  judg- 
ment, before  he  can  with  steadiness  conclude  that  this 
is  a  work  of  grace. 

Toothers  it  is  thus  discovered:  1.  By  an  experi- 
mental confession  of  his  faith  in  Christ.  2.  By  a  life  an- 
swerable to  that  confession  ;  to  wit,  a  life  of  holiness ; 
heart  holiness,  family  holiness  (if  he  hath  a  f  mily)  and 

*  Psal.  cxix.  34.  f  Mark  xiv.  16.         John  xvi.  8,  9. 

Rom.  vii.  24.  t  Ps-  xxxviii.  18.      Jer.  xxxi.  19. 

Matt.  v.  6.      Acts  ir.  12,    Gal.  i.  15,  16.      Rev.  xxi.  6. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  105 

by  conversation  holiness  in  the  world  ;  which  in  the 
general  teacheth  him  inwardly  to  abhor  his  sin,  and  him- 
self for  that,  in  secret ;  to  suppress  it  in  his  family,  and 
to  promote  holiness  in  the  world ;  not  by  talk  only,  as 
an  hypocrite  or  talkative  person  may  do,  but  by  a  prac- 
tical subjection  in  faith  and  love  to  the  power  ofihe 
word.*  And  now,  Sir,  as  to  this  brief  description  of 
the  work  of  grace,  and  also  the  discovery  of  it,  if  you 
have  aught  to  object,  object ;  if  not,  then  give  me  leave 
to  propound  to  you  a  secret  question 

Talk.  Nay,  my  part  is  not  now  to  object,  but  to  hear : 
let  me  therefore  have  your  second  question. 

Faith.  It  is  this  :  Do  you  experience  this  first  part 
of  the  description  of  it  ;  and  doth  your  life  and  conver- 
sation testify  the  same  ;  or  standeth  your  religion  in 
word  or  tongue,  and  not  in  deed  and  truth?  Pray,  if 
you  incline  to  answer  me  in  this,  say  no  more  than  you 
know  the  God  above  will  say  Amen  to  ;  and  also  noth- 
ing but  what  your  conscience  can  justify  you  in  :  •'  for 
not  he  that  commendeth  himself  is  approved,  but  whom 
the  Lord  commendeth"  Besides,  to  say  I  am  thus  and 
thus,  when  my  conversation,  and  all  my  neighbors  tell 
me  I  lie,  is  great  wickedness. 

Then  Talkative  at  first  began  to  blush  ;  but,  recov- 
ering himself,  thus  he  replied :  You  come  now  to  ex- 
perience, to  conscience,  and  God  :  and  to  appeal  to  him 
for  justification  of  what  is  spoken :  this  kind  of  discourse 
I  did  not  expect ;  nor  am  I  disposed  to  answer  such 
questions  :  because  T  count  not  myself  bound  thereto, 
unless  you  take  upon  you  to  be  a  catechizer :  and 
though  you  should  do  so,  yet  I  may  refuse  to  make  you 
my  judge.  But  I  pray,  will  you  tcil  me  why  you  ask 
me  such  questions  ? 

Faith.  Berause  I  saw  you  forward  to  talk,  and  be- 
cause I  knew  net  that  you  had  aught  else  but  notion. 
Besides,  to  tell  you  all  the  truth,  I  have  heard  of  you, 
that  you  are  a  man  whose  religion  lies  in  talk,  and  that 
your  conversation  gives  this  your  profession  the  lie. 
They  say  you  are  a  spot  among  Christians;  and  that 
religion   fareth  the  worse  for  your  ungodly  conversa_ 

*  Ps.  1.  23.      Ezek.  xx.  43.     Matt   v.  8.      John.  xiv.  IS. 
Rote.  x.  9,  IP.    PUil.  iii.  17— -20, 


lOtf  THE    PILGRIMTS    PROGRESS. 

tion  ;  that  some  already  have  stumbled  at  your  wiekcd 
ways,  and  that  more  are  in  danger  of  being  destroyed 
t!  reby;  your  religion  and  an  ale-house,  and  copious- 
ness, and  uncleanness,  and  swearing  and  lying,  and  vain 
tompan)  -keeping,  8cc  will  stand  together.  'The  prov- 
erb is  true  of  you,  which  is  said  of  a  whore,  to  wit.  that 
*  she  is  a  shame  to  all  women  ;'  so  you  are  a  shame  to 
all  professors. 

Talk.  Since  you  are  ready  to  take  up  reports,  and  to 
judge  so  rashly  as  you  do,  I  cannot  but  conclude  you 
are  some  peevish  or  melancholic  man,  not  fit  to  be  dis- 
coursed with  : — and  so,  adieu 

Then  came  up  Christian,  and  said  to  his  brother,  I 
told  you  how  it  would  happen ;  your  words  and  his 
lusts  could  not  agree.  He  had  rather  leave  your  com- 
pany than  reform  his  life  ;  but  he  is  gone,  as  I  said  :  let 
him  go,  the  loss  is  no  man's  but  his  own  :  he  has  saved 
us  the  trouble  of  going  from  him  ;  for  he  continuing 
(as  I  suppose  he  will  do)  as  he  is,  he  would  have  been 
but  a  blot  in  your  company  :  besides  the  apostle  says, 
"  From  such  withdraw  thyself." 

FaitJi.  But  I  am  glad  we  had  this  little  discourse 
with  him  ;  it  may  happen  that  he  will  think  of  it  again  : 
however,  I  have  dealt  plainly  with  him  and  so  am  clear 
of  his  blood  if  he  perisheth. 

Chr.  You  did  well  to  talk  so  plainly  to  him  as  you 
did;  there  is  but  little  of  this  faithful  dealing  with  men 
now-a-days,  and  that  makes  religion  to  stink  so  in  the 
nostrils  of  many  as  it  doth  :  for  tln-y  are  these  talkative 
fools,  whose  religion  is  only  in  words,  and  are  debauch- 
ed and  vain  in  their  own  conversation,  that,  being  so 
much  admitted  .,o  the  fellowship  of  the  godly,  do 
puzzle  the  world,  blemish  Christianity,  and  grieve  the 
sincere.  I  wish  that  all  men  would  deal  with  such  as 
you  have  done ;  then  should  they  be  either  made  more 
conformable  to  religion,  or  the  company  of  saints  would 
be  too  hot  for  them.     Then  did  Faithful  say — 

*  How  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes  ! 
How  bravely  doth  he  speak  !   How  he  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  bim  ?  But  so  soou 
As  faithful  talks  of  hear  i-work,  liketbemoen 


HE    PILGRIM  8    PROGRESS.  107 

the  full,  ioto  the  wane  lie  goes  ; 
ill  all  but  he  that  heart-work  kuows. 

r*  hus  they  went  on  talking  of  what  they  had  seen  by 
the  way,  and  so  made  that  way  easy  which  would  other- 
wise no  doubt  have  been  tedious  to  them  :  for  now  they 
went  through  a  wilderness. 

Now  when  Christian  and  Faithful  were  got  almost 
quite  out  of  this  wilderness,  Faithful  chanced  to  cast  his 
eye  back,  and  spied  one  coming  after  them,  an<i  he 
knew  him.  Oh!  said  Faithful  to  his  brother,  Who 
comes  yonder  ?  Then  Christian  looked,  and  said,  It  is 
my  good  friend  Evangelist.  Aye,  and  my  good  friend 
too,  said  Faithful ;  for  it  was  he  that  set  me  in  the  way 
to  the  gate.  Now  as  Evangelist  came  up  unto  them* 
he  thus  saluted  them  : 

Peace  be  with  you  dearly  beloved  ;  and  peace  be  to 
your  helpers. 

Chr.  Welcome,  welcome  my  good  Evangelist  ;  the 
sight  of  thy  countenance  brings  to  my  remembrance 
thy  ancient  kindness  and  unwearied  labors  for  my  eter- 
nal good. 

And  a  thousand  times  welcome,  said  good  Faithful  : 
thy  company,  O  sweet  Evangelist,  how  desirable  it  is  to 
us  poor  pilgrims  ! 

Then  said  Evangelist,  How  hath  it  fared  with  you  my 
friends,  since  the  time  of  our  last  parting  ?  what  have 
you  met  with,  and  how  have  you  behaved  yourselves  ? 
Then  Christian  and  Faithful  told  him  of  all  things 
that  had  happened  to  them  in  the  way  ;  and  how,  and 
with  what  difficulty,  they  had  arrived  at  that  place. 

Right  glad  am  I,  said  Evangelist,  not  that  you  have 
met  with  trials,  but  that  you  have  been  victors,  and  for 
that  you  have,  notwithstanding  many  weaknesses,  con- 
tinued in  the  way  to  this  very  day.  I  say,  right  glad  am 
I  of  this  thing,  and  that  for  my  own  sake  and  your's. 
I  have  sowed  and  you  have  reaped  ;  and  'he  day  is  co- 
ming, when  "  both  he  that  sowed  and  they  that  reaped 
shall  rejoice  together  ;"  that  is,  if  you  hold  out :  "  for 
in  due  time  ye  shall  reap,  if  you  faint  not."*  The 
crown  is  before  you,  and  it  is  an  incorruptible  one  ;  w  ss> 

*  John.  v.  36,    Gal.  vi.  9. 


>08  THE   P1L(5RIm's    progress. 

run  that  you  may  obtain  it."  Some  there  bs  that  set 
I  ;  this  crown,  and  after  they  have  gone  far  for  it,  a- 
nother  comes  in,  and  tak<  s  it  from  them  :  "  hold  fast 
v.  fore  that  you  have,  let  no  man  take  your  crown  ;" 
you  are  not  yet  out  of  the  gun-shot  of  the  devil :  "  you 
have  not  resisted  unto  blood,  striving  against  sin  :"  let 
the  kingdom  be  always  before  you,  and  believe  stedfast- 
}y  concerning  things  that  are  invisible:  let  nothing  that 
is  on  this  side  the  other  world  get  within  you  :  and  a« 
hove  all,  iook  well  to  your  own  hearts  and  to  'the  lusts 
thereof,  for  they  arc  tk  deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
desperately  wicked  :"  set  your  faces  like  a  flint ;  you 
have  ail  power  in  heaven  and  earth  on  your  side. 

Then  Christian  thanked  him  for  his  exhortation  ;  but 
told  him  withal,  that  they  would  have  him  speak  furth- 
er to  them  for  their  help  the  rest  of  the  way  ;  and  -the 
rather,  for  that  they  well  knew  that  he  was  a  prophet, 
and  could  tell  them  of  things  that  might  happen  unto 
them,  and  how  they  might  resist  and  overcome  them. 
To  which  request  Faithfui  also  consented.  So  Evange- 
list began  as  followetti : 

My  sons,  you  have  heard  in  the  words  of  the  truth  of 
the  gospel,  that  "  you  must  through  many  **  tribula- 
tions enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  And  again, 
that  "  in  every  city,  bonds  and  afflictions  abide  on  you;" 
and  therefore  you  cannot  expect  that  you  should  go 
long  on  your  pilgrimage  without  them,  in  some  sort  or 
other  You  have  found  something  in  the  truth  of  these 
testimonies  upon  you  already,  and  more  will  immedi- 
ately lollow  :  for  now,  as  you  see,  you  are  almost  out  of 
this  wilderness,  therefore  you  will  soon  come  into  a 
town,  that  you  will  by  and  by  see  before  you  :  and  in 
that  town  you  will  be  hardly  beset  with  enemies,  who 
will  strain  hard  but  they  will  kill  you  ;  and  be  you  sure 
that  one  or  both  of  you  must  seal  the  testimony  which 
you  hold  with  blood  :  but  "  be  you  faithful  unto  death, 
and  the  King  will  give  you  a  crown  of  life"  He 
that  shall  die  there,  although  his  death  will  be  unnatur- 
al, and  his  pains  perhaps  great,  he  will  yet  have  the 
better  of  his  fellow,  not  only  because  he  will  be  arrived 
at  the  Celestial  City  soonest,  but  because  he  will  c?* 

*  1  Cor.  ix.  24—27.     Rev,  iii.  12. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  109 

cape  many  miseries  that  the  other  will  meet  with  in  the 
rest  of  his  journey.  But  when  you  are  come  to  the 
town,  and  shall  find  fulfilled  what  I  have  here  related, 
then  remember  your  friend  and  quit  yourselves  ji^e 
men  ;  and  "  commit  the  keeping  of  your  souls  to  your 
God  in  well-doing,  as  unto  a  faithful  Creator." 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  when  they  were  got 
out  of  the  wilderness,  they  presently  saw  a  town  before 
them  ;  the  name  of  that  town  is  Vanity ;  and  at  that 
town  there  is  a  fair  kept,  called  Vanity-fair :  it  is  kept. 
?.ll  the  year  long  :  it  beareth  the  name  of  Vanity-fair, 
because  the  town  where  it  is  kept  is  "  lighter  than  va- 
nity," and  also,  because  all  thai  is  there  sold,  or  that 
cometh  thither,-  is  vanity.  As  is  the  saying  of  the  wise, 
"  All  that  cometh  is  vanity*.*' 

This  fair  is  no  new  erected  business,  but  a  thing  of 
ancient  standing  :  I  will  show  you  the  original  of  it. 

Almost  five  thousand  years  agone,  there  were  pil- 
grims walking  to  the  Celestial  City,  as  these  two  hon- 
est persons  are  :  and  Beelzebub,  Apollyon,  and  Legion, 
with  their  companions,  perceiving,  by  the  path  that  the 
pilgrims  made,  that  their  way  to  their  city  lay  through 
this  town  of  Vanity,  they  contrived  here  to  set  up  a 
fair ;  a  fair  wherein  should  be  sold  all  sorts  of  vanity  ; 
and  that  it  should  last  all  the  year  long  :  therefore,  at 
this  fair,  are  all  such  merchandize  sold,  as  houses,  lands, 
trades,  places,  honors,  preferments,  titles,  countries, 
kingdoms,  lusts,  pleasures  ;  and  delights  of  all  surts, 
as  whores,  bawds,  wives,  husbands,  children,  masters, 
servants,  lives,  blood,  bodies,  souls,  silver,  gold,  perils, 
precious  stones,  and  what  not  ? 

And  moreover,  at  this  fair  there  is  at  all  times  to  be 
seen  jugglings,  cheats,  games4plays,  fools,  apes,  knaves, 
and  rogues,  and  that  of  every  kind. 

Here  are  to  be  seen  too,  and  that  for  nothing,  thefts, 
murders,  adulteries,  false-swearers,  and  that  of  a  blood- 
red  cole; 

And  as  in  other  fairs  of  less  moment,  there  are  sever- 
al rows  and  streets  under  their  proper  names,  where 
such  wares  are  vended,  so  here  likewise  you  have  the 
proper  places,  rows,  streets  (viz.  countries  and  king- 

*  Eccles.  i.  2,  14.     ii.  17.  si,  S.    Isaiah  xl.  >7. 
K 


€ 


110 


doras)  where  the  wares  of  this  fair  are  soonest  to  be 
found.  Here  is  the  Britain  row,  the  French  row, 
the  Italian  row,  the  Spanish  row,  the  German  row, 
where  several  sorts  of  vanities  are  to  be  sold.  But  as  in 
otffl  r  fairs  some  one  commodity  is  as  the  chief  of  all  the 
fair,  so  the  ware  of  Rome  and  her  merchandize  is  great- 
ly promoted  in  this  fair  :  only  our  English  nation,  with 
some  others,  have  taken  a  dislike  thereat. 

Now,  as  I  said,  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lies  just 
through  the  town  where  this  lustly  fair  is  kept ;  and  he 
that  will  go  to  the  city,  and  yet  not  go  through  this 
town,  "  must  needs  go  out  of  the  world."  The  Prince 
of  princes  himself,  when  here,  went  through  this  town 
to  his  own  country,  and  that  upon  a  fair-day  loo :  yea, 
and  as  I  think,  it  was  Beelzebub,  the  chief  lord  of  this 
fair,  that  invited  him  to  buy  of  his  vanities  ;  yea,  would 
have  made  him  lord  of  the  fair,  would  he  but  have  done 
him  reverence  as  he  went  through  the  town  :  yea,  be- 
cause he  was  such  a  person  of  honor,  Beelzebub  had 
had  him  from  street  to  street,  and  showed  him  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  in  a  little  time,  that  he  might, 
if  possible,  allure  that  Blessed  One,  to  cheapen  and  buy 
some  of  his  vanities  :  but  he  had  no  mind  to  the  merch- 
andize, ,  nd  therefore  left  the  town  without  laying  out  so 
much  as  one  farthing  upon  these  vanities.*  This  fair 
therefore,  is  an  ancient  thing,  of  long  standing,  and  a 
very  great  fair. 

Now  these  pilgrims,  as  I  said,  must  needs  go  through 
this  fair.  Well,  so  they  did  ;  but,  behold,  even  as  they 
entered  into  the  fair,  all  the  pecple  in  the  fair  were  mo- 
ved, and  the  town  itself,  as  it  were,  in  hubbub  about 
them  ;  and  that  for  several  reasons  ;  for, 

First,  The  pilgrims  were  clothed  with  such  kind  of 
raiment,  as  was  diverse  from  the  raiment  of  any  that 
traded  in  that  fair.  The  people,  therefore,  of  the  fair, 
made  a  great  gazing  upon  them  t-some  said  they  were 
fools  ;t  some  they  were  bedlams  ;  and  some,  they  were 
outlandish  men. 

Secondly,  And,  as  they  wondered  at  their  apparel, 
so  they  did  likewise  at  their  speech  ;  for  few  could  un- 
derstand what  they  said  :  they  naturally  spoke  the  lan- 

*Matt.  iv,  8,  9.     Luke  it.  5—7.  f  1  Cor.  iv,  9,  10. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  Ill 

guage  of  Canaan  ;  but  they  that  kept  the  fair,  were  the 
men  of  this  world  :  so  that  from  one  end  of  the  fair  to 
the  other,  th  ;y  seemed  barbarians  each  to  the  other. 

Thirdly,  But  that  which  did  not  a  little  amuse  the 
merchandizes  was,  that  these  pilgrims  set  very  light  by 
all  their  wares  :  they  cared  not  so  much  as  to  look  upon 
them  :  and  if  they  called  upon  them  to  buy,  they  would 
put  their  fingers  in  their  ears,  and  cry,  "  Turn  away 
mine  eyes  from  beholding  vanity  ;"*  and  look  upwards, 
signifying,  that  their  trade  and  traffic  was  in  heaven. 

One  chanced,  mockingly,  beholding  the  carriages  of 
the  men,  to  say  unto  them,  '  What  will  ye  buy  V  but 
they  looking  gravely  upon  him,  said,  We  "  buy  the 
truth."t  At  that,  there  was  an  occasion  taken  to  despite 
the  men  the  more  :  some  mocking,  some  taunting,  some 
speaking  reproachfully,  and  some  calling  upon  others 
to  smite  them.  At  last,  things  came  to  a  hubbub  and 
great  stir  in  the  fair,  insomuch  that  all  order  was  con- 
founded. Now  was  word  presently  brought  to  the 
great  one  of  the  fair,  who  quickly  came  down,  and  de- 
puted some  of  his  most  trusty  friends  to  take  those  men 
into  examination,  about  whom  the  fair  was  almost  over- 
turned. So  the  men  were  brought  ic  examination; 
and  they  that  sat  upon  them,  asked  them  whence  they 
came,  whither  they  went,  and  what  they  did  there  in 
such  an  unusual  garb  ?  The  men  told  them  that  they 
were  pilgrims  and  strangers  in  the  world;  and  that 
they  were  going  to  their  own  country,  which  was  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem  ;Jand  that  they  had  given  no  occas- 
ion to  the  men  of  the  town,  nor  yet  to  the  merchandi- 
sers, thus  to  abuse  them,  and  to  stop  them  in  their  jour- 
ney :  except  it  was  for  that,  when  one  asked  Ihem  what 
they  would  buy,  they  said  they  would  buy  the  truth. — 
But  they  that  were  appointed  to  examine  them,  did  not 
believe  them  to  be  any  other  than  bedlams  and  mad,  or 
else  such  as  came  to  put  all  things  into  a  confusion  in 
the  fair.  Therefore  they  took  them  and  beat  them,  and 
besmeared  them  with  dirt,  and  then  put  them  into  the 
cage  that  they  might  be  made  a  spectacle  to  all  the  men 
of  the  fair.  Therefore  they  lay  for  some  time,  and 
were  made  the  object  of  any  man's  sport,  or  malice,  or 

*  Fs.  caix.  37.     f  Prov.  xxiii.  29.      |  Heb.  xi.  13— lift 


112  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

revenge  ;  the  great  one  of  the  fair  laughing  still  at  all 
that  befel  them.  But  the  men  being  patient  and  not 
rendering  railing  for  railing,  but  contrariwise  blessing, 
and  give  good  words  for  bad,  and  kindness  for  injuries 
me  men  in  the  fair,  that  were  more  observing 
and  Jess  prejudiced  than  the  rest,  began  to  check  and 
blame  the  baser  sort,  for  their  continual  abuses  done 
by  them  to  the  men  :  they  therefore  in  an  angry  manner 
let  fly  at  them  again,  counting  them  as  bad  as  the  men 
in  the  cage,  and  telling  them,  that  they  seemed  confed- 
erates, and  should  be  made  partakers  of  their  misi  :  - 
The  others  replied,   that,  lor  aught  they  could 

,  :he  men  were  quiet  and  sober,  and  intended  nobo- 
dy any  harra  :  and  that  there  were  many  that  traded  in 
their   fair,  that  were  more , worthy  to  be   put  into  the 
e,  yea,  and  pillory  too,  than  were  the  men  that  they 
had  abused.      Thus  after  diverse  words  had  passed  on 

th  sides  (the  men  behaving  themselves  all  the  while 
very  wisely  and  soberly  before  them)  they  fell  to  some 
blows  amorg  themselves,  and  did  harm  one  to  another. 
Then  were  thece  two  poor  men  brought  before  their 
examiners  again,  and  there  charged  as  being  guilty  of 
the  late  hubbub  that  had  been  in  the  fair.  So  they  beat 
them  pitifully,  and  hanged  irons  upon  them,  and  led 
them  in  chains  v.p  and  down  the  fair,  for  an  example 
and  terror  toothers,  lest  any  should  speak  in  their  be- 
half, or  join  themselves  unto  them.  But  Chiistian  and 
Faithful  behaved  themselves  yet  more  wisely,  and  re- 

■  -jd  the  ignominy  and  sliame  that  was  cast  upon 
them,  with  so  much  meekness  and  patience,  that  it  won 
to  their  side  (though  but  lew  in  comparison  cf  the  rest) 
several  of  the  men^of  the  fair.  This  put  the  other  par- 
ty yet  into  a  greater  rage,  insomuch  that  they  conclu- 
ded the  death  of  these  two  men.  Wherefore  they 
threatened,  that  neither  cage  nor  irons  should  serve 
their  turn,  but  that  they  should  die  for  the  abuse  they 
had  done,  and  for  deluding  the  men  of  the  fair. 

Then  were  they  demanded  to  the  cage  again  until 
urther  order  should  he  taken  with  them.  So  they  put 
tnem  in,  and  made  their  feet  fast  in  thf  stocks. 

<-;,  therefore,  ijhey  called  again  to  mind,  what  they 
had  heard  from  their  faithful  "friend  Evangelist,  and 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  1 1  *J 

were  the  more  confirmed  in  their  ways  and  sufferings 

ivhat  he  told  them*  would  happen  to  them.      They 
comforted  each  other,  tnat  n  hose  lot  it  was  to 
suffer,  even  he  sb         have  the  best  of  it  ;  therefore 
man  secretly  Wished.that  he  might  have   that  pre* 
fermei.t :  but  committing  thems« •.-■  the   all-wise 

disposal  of  Him  that  ruleth  ail  things,  with  con- 

tent they  abode  in  the  condition  in  • 
til  they  should  be  otherwise  disposed 
Then  a  convenient  time  being  appoi. 
them  forth  to  their  trial,  in  order  to  thei,  c 
When   the  time  was  come,  they  were  brough 
their  enemies,  and  arraigned.      The  judge's  nam<=  sv-: 
Lord   Hate-Gocd  :    their  indictment  was  one  and  the 
same  in  substance,  though  somewhat  vaiying  in  form  ; 
the  contents  whereof  was  this: 

':  That  they  were  enemies  to,  and  disturbers  of,  their 
trade  :  that  they  had  made  commotions  and  divisions  in 
the  town,  and  had  won  a  paity  to  their  own  most  dan- 
gerous opinions,  in  contempt  of  the  law  of  their 
prir.ee." 

Then  Faithful  began  to  answer,  that  he  had  only  set 
himseif  against  that  which  had  set  itself  against  Him 
that  is  higher  than  the  highest.  And,  said  he,  as  for 
disturbance,  I  make  none,  being  myself  a  man  of  peace: 
the  parties  that  were  won  to  usv  were  won  by  beholding 
cur  truth  and  innocence,  and  they  are  only  turned  from 
the  worse  to  the  better.  And  as  to  the  king  you  talk  of, 
since  he  is  Beelzebub,  the  enemy  of  our  Lord,  I  defy 
him  and  all  his  angels. 

Then  proclamation  was  made  that  they  that  had  aught 
to  say  for  their  lord  the  king,  against  the  piisoner  at  the 
bar,  should  forthwith  appear  and  give  in  their  evidence. 
So  there  came  in  three  witnesses,  to  wit,  Envy,  Super- 
stition, and  Pickthank  :  They  were  then  asked,  ii  they 
knew  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  :  and  what  they  had  to  say 
for  their  lord  the  king  against  him  ? 

Then  stood  forth  Envy,  and  said  to  this  effect :  My 
lord,  I  have  known  this  man  a  long  time  and  will  attest 
upon  my  oath  before  this  honorable  bench,  that  he  is— 

Judge.     Hold,  give  him  his  oath. 

So  they  sware  him.— Then  he  said,  my  lord,  thi* 
K  2 


114 

man,  notwithstanding  his  plausible  name,  is  one  of  the 
vilest  men  in  our  country  ;  he  neither  regardeth  prince 
nor  people,  law  nor  custom  ;  but  doeth  all  that  he  can 
to  possess  all  men  with  certain  of  his  disloyal  notions, 
which  he  in  the  general  calls  '  firincifiles  of  faith  and 
holiness*  And  in  particular,  I  heard  him  once  myself 
affirm,  that  Christianity  and  the  customs  of  our  town  of 
Vanity  were  diametrically  opposite,  and  could  not  be 
reconciled.  By  which  saying,  my  lord,  he  doth  at  once 
not  only  condemn  all  our  laudable  doings,  but  us  in  the 
doing  of  them. 

Then  did  the  judge  say  unto  him,  Hast  thou  any 
more  to  say  ? 

Envy.  My  lord,  I  could  say  much  more,  only  I  would 
not  be  tedious  to  the  court.  Yet  if  need  be,  when  the 
other  gentlemen  have  given  in  their  cidence,  rather 
than  any  thing  shall  be  wanting  that  will  despatch  him, 
I  will  enlarge  my  testimony  against  him — So  he  was 
bid  to  stand  by. 

Then  they  called  Superstition,  and  bid  him  look  up- 
on the  prisoner  ;  they  also  asked,  what  he  could  say  for 
their  lord  the  king  against  him  ?  Then  they  sware  him  ; 
so  he  began  : 

My  lord,  I  have  no  great  acquaintance  with  this  man, 
*\or  do  1  desire  to  have  a  further  knowledge  of  him  ; 
however,  this  I  know,  that  he  is  a  very  pestilent  fellow, 
from  some  discourse  that  the  other  day  I  had  with  him 
in  this  town;  for  then  talking  with  him,  I  heard  him 
say  that  our  religion  was  naught,  and  such  by  which  a 
man  could  by  no  means  plea»e  God.  Which  saying  of 
his,  my  lord,  your  lordship  very  well  knows  what  neces- 
sarily thence  will  follow,  to  wit,  that  we  still  do  wor- 
ship in  vain,  are  yet  in  our  sins,  and  finally  shall  be 
damned  ;  and  this  is  that  which  I  have  to  say. 

Then  was  Pickthank  sworn,  and  bid  say  what  he 
knew  m  the  behalf  of  their  lord  the  king,  against  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar. 

My  lord,  and  you  gentlemen  all,  this  fellow  I  have 
known  for  a  long  time,  and  have  heard  him  speak  things 
that  ought  not  to  be  spoke ;  for  he  huth  railed  on  our 
noble  prince  Beelzebub,  and  hath  spoken  contemptibly 
of  his  honorable  friends,  whose  names  are  the  Lord  Old 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  J  15 

man,  the  Lord  Carnal  delight,  the  Lord  Luxurious,  the 
Lo.d  Desire-of-vain-giory,  rny  old  Lord  Lechery,  Sir 
Having  Greedy,  with  ail  the  rest  ot  our  nobility  ;  and 
he  hath  said,  moreover,  that  if  all  men  were  of  Ins  mind, 
if  possible  there  is  not  one  of  these  noblemen  should 
have  any  longer  a  being  in  this  town.  Besides,  he  hath 
not  been  afraid  to  rail  on  you,  my  lord,  who  are  now  ap- 
pointed to  be  his  judge,  calling  you  an  ungodly  villain, 
with  many  other  such  like  viilifying  terms,  with  which 
he  hath  bespattered  most  of  the  gentry  of  our  town. 

When  this  Pickthank  had  told  his  tale,  the  judge  di- 
rected his  speech  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bat ,  saying, 
Thou  renegade,  heretic,  and  traitor,  hast  thou  heard 
what  these  honest  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against 
thee  ! 

Faith.  May  I  speak  a  few  words  in  my  own  defence  ? 

Judge.  Sirrah,  sirrah,  thoudeservest  to  live  no  long- 
er, but  to  be  slain  immediately  upon  the  place  ;  yet 
that  all  men  may  see  our  gentleness  towards  thee,  let 
us  hear  what  thou  vile  renegade  hast  to  say. 

Faith.  1  say,  then,  in  answer  to  what  Mr.  Envy  hath 
spoken,  I  never  said  aught  but  this,  that  what  rule,  or 
laws,  or  custom,  or  people,  were  flat  against  the  word 
of  God,  are  diametrically  opposite  to  Christianity.  If 
I  have  said  amiss  in  this,  convince  me  of  my  error,  and 
I  am  ready  here  before  you  to  make  my  recantation. 

As  to  the  second,  to  wit,  Mr-  Superstition  and  his 
charge  against  me,  I  said  only  this,  that  in  the  worship 
of  God  there  is  required  a  divine  faith  ;  but  there  can 
be  no  divine  faith  without  a  divine  revelation  of  ihe  will 
of  God.  Therefore,  whatever  is  thrust  into  the  worship 
of  God,  that  is  not  agreeable  to  divine  revelation,  cannot 
be  done  but  by  an  human  faith,  which  faith  will  not  be 
profitable  to  eternal  life. 

As  to  what  Mr.  Pickthank  feaili  said,  I  say  (avoiding 
terms,  as  that  1  am  said  to  rail,  and  the  like)  that  the 
prince  of  this  town,  with  all  the  rabblement,  his  atten- 
dants, by  this  gentleman  named,  are  more  fit  for  being 
in  hell  than  in  this  town  and  country  ;  and  so  the  Lord 
have  mercy  upon  me. 

Then  the  judge  called  to  the  jury,  (who  all  this  while 
stood  by  to  hear  and  observe)  Gentlemen  ot  the  jury. 


116  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

you  see  this  man,  about  whom  so  great  an  uproar  hath 
been  made  in  this  town  ;  you  have  also  heard,  what 
those  worthy  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  him  ; 
also  you  have  heard  his  reply  and  confession  ;  it  lieth 
now  in  your  breasts  to  hang  him,  or  save  his  life  ;  but 
yet  I  think  meet  to  instruct  you  in  our  law. 

There  was  an  act  made  in  the  clays  of  Pharaoh  the 
great,  servant  to  our  prince,  that,  lest  those  of  a  contrary 
religion  should  multiply  and  grow  too  strong  for  him, 
their  males  should  be  thrown  i'lto  the  river.* — There 
was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Nebuchadnczz 
the  great,  another  of  his  servants,  that  whoever  would 
not  fall  down  and  worship  his  golden  image,  should  be 
thrown  into  the  fiery  furr:ace."t — There  was  also  an  act 
made  in  the  days  of  Darius,  that  whoso  for  some  time 
called  upon  any  God  but  him  should  be  cast  into  the 
lions'  den4  Now  the  substance  of  these  laws  this  rebel 
has  broken,  not  only  in  thought  (which  is  not  to  be 
borne)  but  also  in  word  and  deed ;  which  must  there- 
fore needs  be  intolerable. 

For  that  of  Pharaoh  ; — his  law  was  made  upon  sus- 
picion to  prevent  mischief,  no  crime  yet  being  apparent ; 
but  here  is  a  crime  apparent.  For  the  second  and 
third  ; — you  see  he  disputeth  against  our  religion ;  and 
for  the  t?eason  he  hath  confessed,  he  deserveth  to  die 
the  death. 

Then  went  the  jury  out,  whose  names  were  Mr.  Blind- 
man,  Mr.  No-good,  Mr.  Malice,  Mr.  Love-lust,  Mr. 
Live-loose,  Mr.  Headv,  Mr.  High-mind,  Mr.  Enmity, 
Mr.  Liar,  Mr.  Cruelty,  Mr.  Hate-light,  and  Mr.  Im- 
placable ;  who  every  one  gave  in  his  private  verdict- 
against  him  among  themselves,  and  afterwaids  unani- 
mously concluded  to  bring  him  in  guilty  before  the 
judge.  And  first  among  themselves — Mr.  Blindman 
the  foreman,  said,  *  I  see  clearly,  that  this  man  is  an  her- 
etic.' Then  said  P4r  No-gocd,  '  Away  with  such  a 
fellow  from  the  earth/  i  Ay,'  said  Mr.  Malice, '  for  I  ^atc 
the  very  looks  of  him.'  Then  said  Mr.  Love-lust,  *  I 
could  never  endure  him.'  *  Nor  I,'  said  Mr.  Live- 
loose,  *  for  he  would  always  be  condemning  my  way.' 
«  Hang  him,  hang  him,'  said  Mr.  Heady.    *  A  sorry 

*  Exod.  i.  t  Dao.  ill.  |  Dan.  vi. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  11? 

scrub,' said  Mr.  High-mind.  '  My  heart  viseth  against 
him/  said  Mr.  Enmity.  '  He  is  a  rogue,'  said  Mr.  Li- 
ar. -  Han  .  i  too  good  fot  him/  said  Mr.  Cvueity. 
'  Let  i  atch  him  out  of  the   wa>/  said   Mr.  ilate- 

.     t.      Then  said  Mr.    li  »le,  '  Might  1  hare  all 

th  en  me,  i  could  -  reconciled  to  him  '  ^— 

therefore  let  us  i  thw'ith  ring  him  in  guilty  of  death. 
And  y<  .   i  .  -.    is  presently  condemn- 

ed to  be  :  re  he  was,  to  the  place 

from  .  e  To  be  put  to  the  most 

cruel  death  that  con:.  nted. 

They  th  ught  him  out,  to  do  with  him  ac- 

cording to  their  law  ;  and  first  they  scourged  him,  then 
they  buffeted  him,  then  they  lanced  his  flesh  with 
knives  ;  after  that  they  stoned  him  with  stones,  then 
pricked  him  with  their  swords  ;  and  last  of  all  they  bur- 
ned him  to  ashes  at  the  stake.  Thus  came  Faithful  to 
his  end. 

Now  I  saw  that  there  stood  behind  the  multitude  a 
chaiiotand  a  couple  of  horses  waiting  for  Faithful,  who, 
so  soon  as  his  ;es  had  dispatched  him,  was  ta- 

ken up  into  it,  and  straightway  was  carried  up  through 
the  clouds,  with  sound  of  trumpet  the  nearest  way  to 
the  Cc  ;ate.      But  as  for  Christian,  he  had  some 

respite,  and  was  remanded  back  to  prison  ;  so  he  there 
remained  for  a  space  :  but  He  that  overrules  all  things, 
having  the  power  of  their  rage  in  his  own  hsfcd,  so 
brought  it  about,  that  Christian  for  that  time  escaped 
them  and  went  his  way. 

And  as  he  went  he  sang,  saying: 

'Well,  Faithful,  then  hast  faithfully  profest 
Unto  thy  X;Oid,  of*  whom  tbau  shaft  be  blest: 
Wbenfaitktess  ones,  with  ?.!!  their  vain  delights 
.Are  crying  out  under  their  hellish  plights  : 

ig  Faithfuf,  sing,  and  let  thy  name  survive  ; 
For  though  they  kill'd  thee,  thou  art  yet  alive.' 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  went  not  forth 

;  for  there  was  one  whose  name  was  Hopeful  (be- 

•  the  beholding  of  Christian  and  Faithful, 

.  and  behaviour  in  their  sufferings  at  the 

■  joined  himself  unto  him  ;  and,  entering  into  a 


113  TEE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

brotherly  covenant,  told  him  that  he  would  be  his  com- 
panion. Thus  one  died  to  bear  testimony  to  the  truth,  and 
another  rises  out  of  his  ashes  to  be  a  companion  with 
Christian  in  his  pilgrimaged  This  Hopeful  also  told 
Christian  that  there  were  many  more  of  the  men  in  the 
fair,  that  would  take  their  time  and  follow  after. 

^  So  I  saw  that  quickly  after  they  were  got  out  of  the 
fair,  they  overtook  one  that  was  going  before  then., 
whose  name  was  By-ends  :  so  they  ssid  to  him,  What 
countryman,  Sir  ?  arid  how  far  go  you  this  way  ?  He 
told  them  that  he  came  from  the  town  of  Fair-speech, 
and  he  was  going  to  the  Celestial  City,  but  told  them  not 
his  name. 

From  Fair-speech  !  said  Christian  :  is  there  any  good 
thing  lives  there  ?* 

Yes,  said  By-ends,  I  hope. 

Pray,  Sir,  what  may  1  call  you  ?  said  Christian. 

By  e.  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  and  you  to  me  :  if  you 
be  going  this  way,  1  shall  be  glad  of  yom  company  :  if 
not,  1  must  be  content. 

This  town  of  Fair-speech,  said  Christian,  I  have 
heard  of,  and,  as  I  remember,  they  say  it  is  a  wealthy 
place. 

By-e.  Yes,  I  will  assure  you  that  it  is ;  and  I  have 
very  many  rich  kindred  there. 

Chr.  Pray  who  are  your  kindred  there,  if  a  man  may 
be  so  bold  ? 

By-e.  Almost  the  whole  town  ;  and,  in  particular, 
my  Lord  Turn-about,  my  Lord  Time-server,  my  Lord 
Fair-speech,  from  whose  ancestors  that  town  first  took 
its  name  :  also  Mr.  Smoothman,  Mr.  Facing-both-ways, 
Mr.  Any-thing ;  and  the  parson  of  our  parish,  Mr.  Two- 
tongues,  was  my  mother's  own  brother  by  father's  side  : 
and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  become  a  gentleman  of 
good  quality,  yet  my  great  grandfather  was  but  a  water- 
man, looking  one  way  and  rowing  another,  and  I  got 
most  of  my  estate  by  the  same  occupation. 

Chr.  Are  you  a  married  man  ? 

By-e.  Yes.  and  my  wife  is  a  very  virtuous  woman,  the 
daughter  of  a  virtuous  woman  ;  she  was  my  lady  Feig 

*  Prov.  xx r i.  -3. 


THE    PILGRIM  S    PROGRESS 


ing's  daughter,  therefore  she  came  of  a  very  honorable 
iamiiy,  an  1  is  arrived  to  such  a  pitch  of  breeding,  that 
she  knows  how  to  carry  it  to  all,  even  to  piii  ce  and  pea- 
sant. It  is  true  we  somewhat  differ  in  religion  irom 
those  of  the  stricter  SGrt,  yet  but  in  two  small  points  : 
First,  we  never  strive  against  wind  and  tide : — Second- 
ly, we  are  always  most  zeaious  whea  Religion  goes  in 
Ins  silver  slippers  ;  we  love  much  to  walk  with  him 
in  the  street  if  the  sun  shines,  and  the  people  applaud 
him. 

Then  Christian  stepped  a  little  aside  to  his  fellow 
Hopeful,  saying,  It  run*  in  my  miid,  that  this  is  one 
By-ends  of  Fair-speech  ;  and  if  it  be  he,  we  have  as 
very  a  knave  in  our  company  as  dwelleth  in  all  these 
parts.  Then  said  Hopeful,  Ask  him  ;  methiuks  he 
should  not  be  ashamed  of  his  name.  So  Christian  came 
up  with  him  again,  and  said,  Sir,  you  talk  as  if  you 
knew  something  more  than  all  the  world  doth  ;  and  if 
I  take  not  my  mark  amiss,  I  deem  I  have  half  a  guess 
of  you  :  is  not  your  name  Mr.  By-ends,  of  Fair-speech  ? 

By-e.  This  is  not  my  name  ;  but  indeed  it  is  a  nick- 
name that  is  given  me,  by  some  that  cannot  abide  me, 
and  I  must  be  content  to  bear  it^-as  a  reproach,  as  oth- 
er good  men  have  borne  their's  before  me. 

Chr.  But  did  you  never  give  an  occasion  to  men  to 
call  you  by  this  name  ? 

By-c.  Never,  never !  the  worst  that  ever  I  did  to 
give  them  an  occasion  to  give  me  this  name  was,  that 
I  had  always  the  luck  to  jump  in  my  judgment  with  the 
present  way  of  the  times,  whatever  it  was;  and  my 
chance  was  to  get  thereby.  But  if  things  are  thus  cast 
upon  me,  let  me  count  them  a  blessing  ;  but  let  not  the 
malicious  load  me  therefore  with  reproach. 

Chr.  I  thought  indeed  that  you  were  the  man  that  1 
heard  of ;  and  to  tell  you  what  I  think,  I  fear  this  name 
belongs  to  you  more  properly  than  you  are  willing  we 
should  think  it  doth. 

Bye.  Well,  if  you  will  thus  imagine,  I  cannot  help 
it :  you  will  find  me  a  fair-company  keeper,  if  you  will 
t admit  me  your  associate. 

Chr,  If  you  will  go  with  us,  you  must  go  against  wind 


120  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 


and  tide  ;  the  which  I  perceive,  is  against  your  opinion 
you  must  also  own  Religion  in  his  rags  as  well  as  when 
in  his  silver  slippers  ;  and  stand  by  him  too  when  bound 
in  irons   as  well  as  when  he   walketh  the   street  with 
applause. 

By-e.  You  must  not  impose,  nor  lord  it  over  my 
faith  ;  leave  me  to  my  liberty,  and  let  me  go  with  you. 

C/ir.  Not  a  step  further,  unless  you  will  do  in  what 
I  propound  as  we. 

Then  said  By-ends,  I  shall  never  desert  my  old  prin- 
ciples, since  they  are  harmless  and  profitable.  If  I 
may  not  go  with  you,  I  must  do  as  I  did  before  you  o« 
vertook  me  ;  even  go  by  myself,  until  some  overtake  me 
that  will  be  glad  of  my  company. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  and  Hopeful 
ibrscok  him,  and  kept  their  distance  before  him  :  but 
one  of  them  looking  back,  saw  three  men  following  Mr. 
By-ends,  and,  behold,  as  they  came  up  with  him,  he 
made  them  a  very  low  congee ;  and  they  also  gave  him 
a  compliment.  The  men's  names  were  Mr.  Hold-the- 
world,  Mr.  Money-love,  and  Mr.  Save-all ;  men  that 
Mr.  By-ends  had  formerly  been  acquainted  with ;  for  in 
their  minority  they  were  school  fellows,  and  were  taught 
by  one  Mr.  Gripeman,  a  school-master  in  Love-gain, 
%vhich  is  a  market  town  in  the  county  of  Coveting,  in 
the  north.  This  school-master  taught  them  the  art  of 
getting,  either  by  violence,  cozenage,  flattery,  lying,  or 
by  putting  on  a  guise  of  religion  ;  and  these  four  gen- 
tlemen had  attained  much  of  the  art  of  their  master,  so 
that  they  could  each  of  them  have  kept  such  a  school 
themselves. 

Well,  when  they  had,  as  I  said,  thus  saluted  each 
other,  Mr.  Money-love  said  to  Mr.  By-ends,  who  are 
they  upon  the  road  before  us  ?  for  Christian  and  Hope- 
ful were  yet  within  yiew. 

By-e.  They  are  a  couple  of  far  countrymen,  that  af- 
ter tbeir  mode  are  going  on  pilgrimage. 

Money.  Alas  !  why  did  they  not  stay,  that  we  might 
have  had  their  ^ood  company?  for  they,  and  we,  and 
you,  sir,  I  hope,  are  going  on  pilgrimage. 

By-e.  We  are  so  indeed  :  but  the  men  before  us  are 
so  rigid,  and  love  so  much  their  owu  notions,  and  do  al- 


;uE    PILGRIM'S    fXIGGIiLSt-'.  121 

so  so  lightly  esteem  the  opinion  of  others,  that  let  a  man 
be  never  so  godly,  yet  if  he  jumps  not  with  them  in  all 
things,  they  thrust  him  quite  out  of  their  company. 

Save.  Thai's  bad  :  but  we  read  of  some  that  are 
righteous  over-much,  and  such  men's  rigidness  prevails 
with  them  to  judge  and  condemn  all  but  themselves  ; 
but  I  pray  what  and  how  many  were  the  things  wherein 
you  differed  ? 

£y-e.  Why  they,  after  their  headstrong  manner,  con- 
elude  that  it  is  their  duty  to  rush  on  their  journey  ail 
weathers  ;  and  I  am  for  waiting  for  wind  and  tide. 
They  are  for  hazarding  all  for  God  at  a  clap,  and  I  am 
for  taking  all  advantages  to  secure  rny  life  and  estate. 
They  are  for  holding  their  notions,  though  all  other 
men  be  against  them  ;  but  I  am  for  religion  in  what, 
and  so  far  as  the  limes  and  my  safety  will  bear  it.  They 
are  for  religion  when  in  rags  and  contempt;  but  1  am 
for  him  when  he  walks  in  his  golden  slippers,  in  the 
sun- shine  and  with  applause. 

Hold.  Ay,  and  hold  you  there  still,  good  Mr.  By- 
ends  :  for  my  part,  I  can  count  him  but  a  fool,  tj^t  ha- 
ving the  liberty  to  keep  what  he  has,  shall  be  so  unwise 
as  to  lose  it. — Let  us  be  wise  as  serpents  ;  it  is  best  to 
make  hay  while  the  sun-shines  ;  you  see  how  the  bee 
lieth  still  in  winter,  and  bestirs  her  only  when  she  can 
have  profit  with  pleasure.  God  sends  sometimes  rain 
and  sometimes  sun-shine ;  if  they  be  such  foola  as  to 
go  through  the  first,  yet  let  us  be  content  to  take  fair 
weather  along  with  us.  For  my  part,  I  like  that  reli- 
gion best,  that  will  stand  with  the  security  of  God's  good 
blessings  unto  us :  for  who  can  imagine,  that  is  ruled  by 
his  reason,  since  God  has  bestowed  upon  us  the  good 
things  of  this  life,  but  that  he  would  have  us  keep  them 
for  his  sake  ?  Abraham  and  Solomon  grew  rich  in  reli- 
gion. And  Job  says,  that  a  good  man  "  shall  lay  up 
gold  as  dust/'but  he  must  not  be  such  as  the  men  be- 
fore us,  if  they  be  as  you  have  described  them. 

Save.  I  think  that  we  are  all  agreed  in  this  matter, 
and  therefore  there  needs  be  no  more  words  about  it. 

Money.  No,  there  needs  be  no  more  words  about 
this  matter  indeed;  for  he  that  believes  neither  scrip- 


E    PILGRIM  S    PROGRESS. 


lure  nor  reason  (and  you  see  wc  have  both  on  our  s] 
-    iiher  knows  his  own  liberty,  nor  seeks  his  own  safety. 
J}y-e.  My  brethren,  we  are,  as  you  see,  .going  all  on 
pilgrimage,  and  for  our  better  diversion  from  things  that 
are  bad,  give  me  leave  to  propound  unto  you  this  quts- 

Suppose  a  man  a  minister  or  a  tradesman,  &c.  should 
hate  an  advantage  lie  before  him  to  get  the  good  bles- 
sings i  this  life,  yet  so  as  that  he  can  by  no  means  come 
by  them,  except  in  appearance  at  least,  he  becomes  ex- 
traordinary zealous  in  some  points  of  religion  that  he 
meddled  net  with  before — may  he  not  use  this  means 
to  attain  his  end,  and  yet  be  a  right  honest  man  ? 

Money.  I  seethe  bottom  of  your  question  :  arid,  with 
these  gentlemen's  good  leave,  1  will  endeavor  to  shape 
you  an  answer.  At  first,  to  speak  to  your  question,  as 
it  concerns  a  minister  himself.  Suppose  a  minister,  a 
worthy  man,  possessed  but  of  a  very  small  benefice,  and 
has  i'  his  eye  a  greater,  more  fat  and  piump  by  far  : 
he  has  also  now  an  opportunity  of  getting  it,  yet  s>  as 
by  being  more  studious,  by  preaching  more  frequently 
and  zealously,  and,  because  the  temper  of  the  people  re- 
quires it,  by  altering  of  some  of  his  principles  :  for  my 

:t,  I  see  no  reason  but  a  man  may  do  this,  provided 

Ijas  a  call,  ay.  and  more,  a  great  deal  besides,  and  yet 
be  an  honest  man.     For  why  ! 

1.  His  desire  efa  greater  benefice  is  lawful;  this 
cannot  be  contradicted,  since  it  is  set  before  him  by  Pro- 
%idence  ;  so  then  he  may  get  it  if  he  can,  making  no 

!    question  for  conscience's  sake. 

2.  Besides,  his  desire  after  that  benefice  makes  him 
jrore  studious,  a  more   zealous  preacher,  Sec.   and    so 

I  makes   him  a  better  man,  yea,  makes  him  better  im- 
|   prove  his  parts  ;  which  is  according  to  the  mind  of  God. 

3.  Now,  as  for  the  complying  with  the  temper  e 
people  by  deserting,  to  serve  them,  some  of  his  princi- 
ples, this  argucth  that  hi   i    •■:  . 

of  a  sweet  and  winning  deportment  ;    and   so  i 
for  the  ministerial  function. 

4.  ?    conclude  then,  that  a  minister  that  than] 
small  for  a  great  should  not. 

covetous  :  but  rather,  since  he  is  improved  in  ! 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  123 

and  industry  thereby,  be  counted  as  one  that  pursues  hi  5 
ut  ii.to  his  hand  to  do  good.^ 
.  now  to  the   se<       t  j    rt  of  the  quest:     ... 
.  the  tradesman  yuu  mentioned  ;  suppose   such 
an  one  to  have  but  a  poor  employ  in  the  world  :  but  by 
:oming  religious  he  may  in-.-.nU  his  market,  perhaps 
fe,  or  more,  and  fir  better  customers  to 
'  'or   my  part,  I  see  no  reason  but   this  may  be 
law.'-  3  h)  ? 

1.  To  become  religious  'is  a  virtue,  by  what  mean? 
soever  a  man  becomes  so, 

2.  Ncrisit'unl  -e,  cr  more  cus- 
tom to  my  shop. 

3.  Besides,  the  man  ts  tl  ese  by  becoming  re- 

gets  that  which  is  good,  of  them  that  are  good, 
mvg  good  himself;  so  then  here  is  a  good  wife, 
>d   customers,  and  good   gain,  and  all  these  by 
igious,  which  is  good  ;  therefore,  to  becom'd 
(Us  to  get  all  V  ■  se  is  a  good  and  profitable  design. 
Tins  a   3  -    .  thus   made  by  Mr.  Money-love  to  Mr. 
By-end's  que-'  s  highly  applauded  by  them  all  ; 

re.  they  concluded  upon  the   whole  that  it  was 
holesome  and  advantageous.      Att4  because,  as 
thijy  thought  no  man  was  able  to  contradict  it,  and  be- 
cause Christian  and  Hopeful  were  yet  within  call,  they 
ttly  agreed  to  assault  them  with  this  question  as  scon 
as  they  overtook  them  ;  and  the  rather,  because  they 
opposed  Mr.  By-ends  before.     So  they  called  after 
them,  and  they  stopped,  and  stood  still  till  they  came  up 
t  they  concluded  as  they  went,  that  not  Mr, 
old   Mr.  Hokl-the-world  should  propound 
the  ■  to  them:  because,  as  they  supposed,  their 

a  would, be  without  the  remainder  of  that 
heat  between   Mr.  By- ends  and  them 

a  little  before. 

up  to  each  other,  and  after  a  short  salu- 
te-world  propounded  the  question  to 
~tia:i  and  his  fellow,  and  bid  them  answer  it  if  they 

Then  said  Christian,  Even  a  babe  in  religion  may  an- 

ten  thousand  such  questions.      For  if  it  be  unlaw- 

:  fellow  Christ  for  loaves,  as  it  is,  John  vi.  how 


124 

much  more  abominable  is  it  to  make  of  him  and  rciigioii 
a  stalking  horse,  to  get  and  enjoy  the  world  ?  Nor  do 
we  find  any  other  than  heathens,  hypocrites,  devils,  and 
witches,  that  arc  of  this  opinion. 

^Heathens:  for  when  Hamor  and  Sheckhem  had  a 
mind  to  the  daughter  and  cattle  of  Jacob,  and  saw  that 
there  were  no  ways  for  them  to  come  at  them,  but  by 
becoming  circumcised  ;  they  say  to  their  companions, 
"  If  every  male  of  us  be  circumcised,  as  they  are  cir- 
cumcised, shall  not  their  cattle,  and  their  substance,  and 
every  beast  of  theirs  be  ours?"  Their  daughters  and 
their  cattle  were  that  which  they  sought  to  obtain,  and 
their  religion  the  stalking-horse  they  made  use  cf  to 
com 3  at  them.  Read  the  whole  story,  Genesis  ::xiv. 
20—24. 

Tiie  hypocritical   Pharisees  were   also  of  this  reli- 
gion :  long  prayers  were  their  pretence;  but  to  g 
clows'-  houses  was  their  intent,  and  greater  damnation 
from  God  was  their  judgment.* 

Judas  the  devil  was  also  of  this  religion:  he 
ligious  for  the  bag,  that  he  might  be  possessed  of  what 
was  then  in  ;  but  he  was  lost,  a  cast-away,  and  the  very 
son  of  perdition. 

Simon  the  witch  was  of  this  religion  too  :  for  ha 
would  have  bad  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  he  might  have  got 
money  therewith  ;  and  his  sentence  from  Peter's  mouth 
was  accordingly. t 

Neither  will  it  go  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  that  man 
that  takes  up  religion  for  the  world,  will  throw  away  re- 
ligion for  the  world  ;  for  so  surely  as  Judas  desired  the 
world  in  becoming  religious,  so  surely  did  he  also  sell 
religion  and  his  Master  for  the  same.  To  answer  the 
question  therefore  affirmatively,  as  1  perceive  you  have 
done,  anrl  to  accept  of,  as  authentic,  such  answer,  is 
both  heathenish,  hypocritical,  and  devilish  ;  and  your 
reward  will  be  according  to  your  works.  Then  they 
stood  staring  one  upon  another,  but  had  not  wherewith 
to  answer  Christian.  Hopeful  also  approved  of  the  sound- 
ness of  Christian's  answer  ;  so  there  was  a  great  silence 
among  them.  Mr  By-ends  and  his  company  also  stag- 
gered  and  kept   behind,   that  Christian   and   Hopeful 

*  Luke  xx.  46,  47. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  125 

might  outgo  them.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow, 
If  these  men  cannot  stand  before  the  sentence  of  men, 
what  will  they  do  with  the  sentence  of  God  ?  And,  if 
they  are  mute  when  dealt  with  by  vessels  of  clay,  what 
will  they  do  when  they  shall  be  rebuked  by  the  flames 
of  a  devouring  fire  ? 

Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  outwent  them  again, 
and  went  till  they  came  to  a  delicate  plain  called  Ease; 
where  they  went  with  much  content :  but  that  plain  was 
narrow,  so  they  were  quickly  got  over  it.  Now  at  the 
further  side  of  that  plain  was  a  little  Hill  called  Lucre, 
and  in  that  hill  a  silver  mine,  which  some  of  them  that 
had  formerly  gone  that  way,  because  of  the  rarity  ot  it, 
had  turned  aside  to  see  ;  but  going  too  near  the  brim 
of  the  pit,  the  ground,  being  deceitful  under  them, 
broke,  and  they  were  slain  :  some  also  had  been  maim- 
ed there,  and  could  not,  to  their  dying  day,  be  their  own 
men  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  a  little  off  the  road,  o- 
ver  against  the  silver  mine,  stood  Demas  (gentleman- 
like) to  call  passengers  to  come  and  see  ;  who  said  to 
Christian  and  his  fellow,  Ho,  turn  aside  hither,  and  I 
will  show  you  a  thing. 

Chr.  What  thing  so  deserving  as  to  turn  us  out  of 
the  way  to  see  it  ? 

Demas.  Here  is  a  silver  mine,  and  some  digging  in 
it  for  treasure  ;  if  you  will  come,  with  a  little  pains  you 
may  richly  provide  for  yourselves. 

Then  said  Hopeful,  Let  us  go  see. 

Not  I,  said  Christian  ;  I  have  heard  of  this  place  be- 
fore now,  and  how  many  have  been  slain  there  ;  and  be- 
sides, that  treasure  is  a  snare  to  those  that  seek  it ;  for 
it  hindereth  them  in  their  pilgrimage. 

Then  Christian  called  to  Demas,  saying,  is  not  the 
place  dangerous  ?  hath  it  not  hindered  many  in  their 
pilgrimage  ? 

Demas.  Not  very  dangerous,  except  to  those  that  are 
careless.     But  withal  he  blushed  as  he  spake. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  Let  us  not  stir  a  step, 
but  still  keep  on  ©ur  way. 

Hofie.  I  will  warrant  you,  when  By-emls  comes  up,if 

L  2 


126  fHE    PILGRIM'S    PR03»ffS3, 

he  hath  the  same  invitation  as  we,  he  will  turn  in  thith- 
er to  see. 

Ckr.  No  doubt  thereof,  for  his  principles  lead  him 
that  way,  and  a  hunched  to  one  but  he  dies  there. 

Then  Dtmas  called  again,  saying,  but  will  you  not 
come  over  and  see  ? 

Then  Christian  roundly  answered,  saying,  Demas, 
thou  art  an  enemy  to  the  right  ways  of  the  Lord  of  this 
way,  and  hast  been  already  condemned,  for  thine  own 
turning  aside,  by  one  of  his  Majesty's  judges  :*  and 
why  seekest  thou  to  bring  us  into  the  same  condemna- 
tion ?  Besides,  if  we  at  all  turn  aside,  our  Lord  the 
King  will  certainly  hear  thereof,  and  will  there  put  us 
to  shame,  where  we  should  stand  with  boldness  before 
him.  f 

Demas  cried  again,  That  he  also  was  one  of  their 
fraternity  ;  and  that  if  they  would  tarry  a  little,  he  also 
himself  would  walk  with  them. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  is  thy  name  ?  Is  it  not 
the  same  by  which  I  have  called  thee  ? 

Dcutas.  Yes,  my  name  is  Demas ;  I  am  the  son  of 
Abraham. 

Chr.  I  know  you  :  Gehazi  was  your  great  grandfath- 
er, and  Judas  your  father,  and  you  have  trod  in  their 
steps;  it  is  but  a  devilish  prank  that  thou  usest  :  thy 
futher  was  hanged  for  a  traitor,  and  thou  deservest  no 
better  reward.f  Assure  thyself,  that  when  we  come  to 
the  King,  we  will  tell  him  of  this  thy  behaviour.  Thus 
they  went  their  way. 

By  this  time  By-ends  and  his  companions  were  come 
again  within  sight,  and  they  at  the  first  beck  went 
o^er  to  Demas.  Now,  whether  they  fell  into  the  pit  by 
looking  over  the  brink  thereof,  or  whether  they  went 
down  to  dig,  or  whether  they  were  smothered  in  the 
bottom,  by  the  damps  that  commonly  arise  of  these 
things,  I  am  not  certain  ;  but  this  I  observed,  that  they 
never  were  seen  again  in  the  way.— Then  sang  Chris- 
tian : 

'  By-ends  and  silver  Denias  did  agree  ; 
One  calls,  the  other  runs,  that  he  may  be 

•  2  Tim.  ir.  10.        f  Kings  v.  20—27.    Matt.  xxri.  14,  W> 
xxYii.  3— 5, 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  127 

A  sharer  fa  his  lucre  :  so  the«c  do 

Take  up  in  this  world,  and  no  further  go.' 

Now  I  saw,  that,  just  on  the  other  side  of  this  plain,' 
the  pilgiimscame  to  a  place  where  stood  an  old  monu- 
ment, hard  by  the  way  side,  at  the  sight  ot  which  they 
were  both  concerned,  because  of  the  strangeness  ot  the 
form  thereof,  for  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  it  had  been  a 
woman  transformed  into  the  shape  of  a  pillar.  Here 
therefore  they  stood  looking,  and  looking  upon  it  ,  but 
could  not  for  a  time  tell  what  they  should  make  thereof: 
at  last  Hopeful  spied  written  upon  the  head  thereof,  a 
"writing  in  an  unusual  hand  ;  but  he,  being  no  scholar, 
called  to  Christian  (for  he  was  learned)  to  see  if  he 
could  pick  out  the  meaning  :  so  he  came,  ;md  alter  a 
little  laying  of  the  letters  together,  he  found  the  same 
to  be  this  :  "  Remember  Lot's  wife."  So  he  read  it  to 
his  fellow  ;  after  which  they  both  concluded,  that  this 
■was  the  pillar  of  salt  into  which  Lot's  wife  was  turned, 
for  looking  back  with  a  covetous  heart,  when  she  was 
going  from  Sodom  for  safety.*  Which  sudden  and  a- 
mazing  sight  gave  them  occasion  for  this  discourse  : 

Chr.  Ah,  my  brother  !  this  is  a  seasonable  sight  :  it 
came  opportunely  to  us  after  the  hvitation.  which  De- 
mas  gave  us  to  come  over  to  view  the  hill  Lucre  ;  and 
had  we  gone  over,  as  he  desired  us,  and  as  thou  wast  in- 
clined to  do,  my  brother,  we  had,  for  aught  I  know, 
been  made  like  this  woman,  a  spectacle  for  those  that 
shall  come  after  to  behold. 

Hope.  I  am  sorry  that  I  was  so  foolish,  and  am  made 
to  wonder  that  I  am  not  now  as  Lot's  wife  ;  for  where- 
in was  the  difference  between  her  sin  and  mine  ?  she 
only  looked  back,  and  I  had  a  desire  to  go  see  :  let 
grace  be  adored,  and  let  me  be  ashamed  that  ever  such 
a  thing  should  be  in  mine  heart. 

Chr.  Let  us  take  notice  of  what  we  see  here  for  our 
help  for  time  to  come:  this  woman  escaped  one  judg- 
ment ;  for  she  fell  not  by  the  destruction  of  Sodom,  yet 
she  was  destroyed  by  another,  as  we  see.  she  is  turned  in- 
to a  pillar  of  salt. 

Hope,  True*  and  she  may  be  to  us  both  caution  and 

*  Gen.  xix.  26. 


128  THE    riL6R]M'8    PROGRESS. 

example ;  caution  that  we  should  shun  her  sin  ;  or  a 
sign  of  what  judgment  will  overtake  such  as  shall  not 
be  prevented  by  such  caution  ;  so  Corah,  Dathan,  and 
Abiram,  with  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  that  perish- 
ed in  their  sin,  did  also  become  a  sign  or  example  to 
beware.*  But  above  all,  I  muse  at  one  thing,  to  wit, 
how  Demas  and  his  fellows  can  stand  so  confidently 
yonder  to  look  for  that  treasure,  which  this  woman,  but 
for  looking  behind  her  after  (for  we  read  not  that  she 
stept  one  foot  out  of  the  way)  was  turned  into  a  pillar 
of  salt ;  especially  since  the  judgment  which  overtook 
her,  did  make  her  an  example  within  sight  of  where  they 
are  :  for  they  cannot  but  choose  to  see  her,  did  they 
but  lift  up  their  eyes. 

Chr.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  it  argueth 
that  their  hearts  are  grown  desperate  in  that  case ; 
and  I  cannot  tell  whom  to  compare  them  to  so  fitly,  as 
to  them  that  pick  pockets  in  the  presence  of  the  judge, 
or  that  will  cut  purses  under  the  gallows.  It  is  said  of 
the  men  of  Sodom,  that  they  were  sinners  exceedingly, 
w  because  they  were  sinners  before  the  Lord,"  that  is, 
in  his  eye-sight,  and  notwithstanding  the  kindness  that 
he  had  showed  them  ;  for  the  land  of  Sodom  was  now 
like  the  garden  of  Eden  heretofore-!  This  therefore 
provoked  him  the  more  to  jealousy,  and  made  their 
plague  as  hot  as  the  fire  of  the  Lord  out  of  heaven  could 
make  it.  And  it  is  most  rationally  to  be  concluded,  that 
such,  even  such  as  these  are,  who  shall  sin  in  the  sight, 
yea,  and  that  too  in  despite  of  such  examples  as  are  set 
continually  before  them,  to  caution  them  tot  he  contrary, 
must  be  partakers  of  the  severest  judgment. 

Nope.  Doubtless  thou  hast  said  the  truth :  but  what 
a  mercy  is  it,  that  neither  thou,  but  especially  I,  am  not 
made  myself  this  example  !  This  mmistereth  occasion 
to  us  to  thank  God,  to  fear  before  him,  and  always  to 

*  remember  Lot's  wife." 

I  saw  then,  that  they  went  on  their  way  to  a  pleasant 
river,  which  David  the  king  called  "  the  river  of  God  ;" 
but  John,  "  the  river  of  the  water  of  life.":}:  Now  their 
way  lay  just  upon  tHIfcank  of  the  river  :  here  therefore 

*  Kum.  sxvi.  9.  10.        t  Gen.  xiii.  10—13.        J  Ps.  Ixv<  9. 
Ezek.  xJvii.  1.    Rev.  xxii.  1. 


129 

Christian  and  his  companion  walked  with  great  delight : 
ihey  drank  also  of  the  water  of  the  liver,  which  was 
pleasant,  and  enlivening:  to  their  weary  spirits.  Be- 
tides, oa  the  banks  of  this  river,  on  either  side,  were 
green  trees,  for  all  manner  cf  fruit :  and  the  leaves  hey 
ate  to  prevent  surfeits,  and  other  diseases  that  are  inci- 
dent to  those  that  heat  their  blood  by  travels.  On  eith- 
er side  of  the  river  was  also  a  meadow,  curiously  beau- 
tified with  lilies  ;  and  it  was  green  all  the  year  long.  In 
this  meadow  they  lay  down  and  slept :  for  here  they 
might  lie  down  safely.*  When  they  awoke,  they  g 
cred  again  of  the  fruits  of  the  trees,  and  drank  again  of 
the  water  of  the  river,  and  then  lay  down  again  to  sleep. 
Thus  they  did  several  days  and  nights.  Then  they 
sang  : 

'  BehoM  ye  how  those  crystal  streams  do  glide, 
To  comfort  pilgrims  by  the  highway  side. 
The  meadows  green,  besides  the  fragrant  smell, 
Yield  dainties  ibrthem  :  And  he  that  e;m  tell 
What  pleasant  fruit,  yea  leaves,  these  trees  do  yield, 
Will  soon  sell  all,  that  he  may  buy  thh  field.' 

So  when  they  were  disposed  to  go  on  (for  they  were 
r,ot  as  yet  at  their  journey's  end)  they  ate,  and  drank, 
and  departed. 

Nov.-  I  beheld  in  my  dreams,  that  they  had  not  journ- 
eyed far  but  the  river  and  the  way  for  a  time  parted  ; 
bich  they  were  not  a  little  sorry,  yet  they  durst  not 
out  of  the  way.  Now  the  way  from  the  river  was 
rough  and  their  feet  tender  by  reason  of  their  travels  : 
no  the  souls  of  the  pilgrims  were  much  discouraged  be- 
cause cf  the  way.f  Wherefore  still  as  they  went  on, 
.they  wished  for  better  way.  Now  a  little  before  them, 
'here  was  on  the  left  hat  el  of  the  road  a  meadow,  and  a 
^ti!e  to  go  over  into  it ;  and  that  meadow  is  called  By- 
path meadow.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  If 
'his  meadow  lieth  along  by  cur  way-side  let  us  go  over 
into  it.  Then  he  went  to  the  stile  to  see,  and,  behold,  a 
path  lay  alon^  by  the  way  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence. 
It  is  according  to  my  wish,  said  Christian  ;  here  is  the 

.  s  v,  30,  \  Xum.  xxi.  4. 


130 

easiest  going;  come,  good  Hopeful,  and  let   us  go  o- 

\  But  how  if  this  path  should  lead  us  out  ol  the 
way? 

Thai'gjjpt  likely,  said  the  other.     Lo',k,  doth  it  not 
Jong   by  the  I  —  So   Hopeful)  being  per- 

ded    by   his  fellow,  went  after    him   over  the   stile. 
When  they  were  gprie  ever,  and  were  got  into  the  p£th, 
y  found  it  very  easy  tor  their  ftet,  ;md,  withal,  they 
looking  before  tbens  spied  a  man  walking  as  they  did, 
and  his  name  was  ~  I     nfidence  :  so  they  catted  af- 

ter !  .  sked  him  whither  that  way  led  ?  He  said, 

to' tin  Look,  said  Christian,  did  not  I 

ycu  so  ?  by  this  you  may  see  we  arc  right  i  so  they 
befgre  them.      But,  behold,  the 
ttne  on,  and  it  £rew  v  •  ;  so  that  they  that 

!    be  sight  of hrrrfthat  went  before. 
.    that   went  before  (Yam-confidence  by 
way  before  him,  feel  into  a  deep 
as  on  purpose  there  made  by  the  prince  of 
.  to  catch  vain-glorious  fools  withal,  and 
pieces  with  his  fall. 

and  his  fellow  heard  him  fall  :  so  they 
tter  :  hut  there  was  none  to  ar- 
ming.     Then  said  Hopeful, 
ilicn    was   his  ft:!ow   silent,  as 
I  led  him  out  of  the  way.     And 
now  it  began  to  rain,  and  thunder,  and  lighten,  in  a  most 
er;  and  the  waters  rose  amain. 
Then  Hopeful  groaned  |n  himself,  saying,  Oh,  that   I 
had  kept  i  Pay  !' 

Chr    Who  could  have  thought  that  this  path  should 

k!d  usoi.t  of  the  way  ? 
Hofie.  I  was  afraid  on't  at  the  very  first,  and  therefore 
gave  you   that   gentle  caution.      I   would  have    spoke 
plainer,  but  you  are  older  than  I. 

Cnr   Good    brother,  be  not  offended  ;  I  am  sorry  T 
have  brought  thee  out  of  the  way,  and  that   I  have  put 
thee  into  such  imminent  danger  :  pray,  my  brothe 
me  ;  I  did  not  do  it  of  an  evil  intent. 

:  a.  ix.  !<•. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    FKOGitESS.  131 

Jlo/ie.  Be  com  orted,  my  brother,  for  I  forgive  thee  ; 
and  believe  too,  that  this  shall  be  for  good. 

C/'ir.  1  am  glad  J  have  with    me  a  merciful  brother  : 

but  we  must  not  stand  thus  ;  let  us  try  to  go  back  again. 

Jffofie.  Rut,  good  brother,  let  me  go  before. 

Chr.  No,  if  you  please,  let  me  go  first,  that  if  .here 

be   any  danger  1  may  be  first  therein  :  because  by  my 

means  we  are  both  gone  cut  of  the  way. 

No,  said  Hopeful,  you  shall  not  go  first ;  for  your 
mind  being  troubled,  may  lead  you  out  of  the  way  again. 
Then  for  their  encouragement,  tiny  heard  the  voice  cf 
one  saying,  Let  thine  heart  be  towards  the  highway  ;  e- 
ven  the  way  that  thou  Wentest  turn  again."*  But  by 
this  time  the  waters  were  greatly  risen,  by  reason  of 
which,  the  way  of  going  back  was  very  dangerous, 
(Then  1  thought  that  it  wss  easier  going  out  of  the  way 
when  we  are  in,  than  going  in  when  we  are  out.)  Yet 
they  adventured  to  go  back ;  but  it  was  so  dark,  and 
the  flood  was  so  high,  that  in  their  going  back  they  had 
like  to  have  been  drowned,  nine  or  ten  times. 

Neither  could  they,  with  all  the  skill  they  had,  get  a» 
gain  to  the  stile  that  night.  Wherefore  at  last,  lighting 
under  a  little  shelter,  they  sat  down  there,  till  the  day- 
break :  but  being  weary,  they  fell  asleep.  Now  there 
was  not  far  from  the  place  where  they  lay,  a  castle, 
called -Doubting  Castle,  '.  ..e  owner  whereof  was  Gi 

)  spair  :  and  it  was  in  his  grounds  they  were  now  slee- 
ping. Whereof  he  getting  r.p  in  the  morning  early, 
and  walking  up  and  down  in  his  Hekls,  caught  Chris- 
tian and  Hopeful  asleep  in  his  grounds.  Then  wi< 
grim  and  surly  'voice,,  he  bid  them  awake,  and  ask 
them  whence  they  were,  and  what  they  did  in  his 
grounds  ?  They  told  him  they  were  pilgrims,  and  that 
they  had  lost  their  way.  Then  said  the  giant,  You 
have  this  night  trespassed  on  me,  by  trampling  in,  and 
Jyi.:g  o-  my  ground,  and  therefore  you  must  go  along 
i  \  me.  So  they  were  forred  to  go,  because  he  was 
n  they.  They  also  had  hut  little  to  say  ; 
!  they  knew  themselves  in  a  fault  The  giant,  there- 
fore, drove  them  before  him,  and  put  them  into  his  cas- 
tle in  a  \cry  dark  dungeon,  nasty  and  stinking  to  the  spi- 

*  Jcr.  xxxi.  ?! 


lo*2  *HE    PILGRIM'S    PR0GRE8S. 

i its  of  these  two  men.  Here  then  they  lay,  from  Wed- 
nesday morning  till  Saturday  night,  without  one  bil  i 
bread,  or  drop  of  drink,  or  light  or  any  to  ask  how  tttf  y 
did:  they  were  therefore,  nere  in  evil  case,  and  weic 
far  from  friends  and  acquaintance.*  Now  in  this  plu<  c 
Christian  had  double  sorrow,  because  it  was  through  his 
unadvised  counsel  that  they  were  brought  into  this  dis- 
tress. 

Now  Giant  Despair  had  a  wife,  and  her  name  was 
DirP.dence  :  so  when  he  was  gone  to  bed,  he  told  his 
wife  what  he  had  done  :  -to  wit,  that  he  had  taken  a  ccu- 
ple  of  prisoners,  tmd  cast  them  into  his  dungeon,  for 
trespassing  on  his  grounds.  Then  he  asked  her  also, 
what  he  had  best  do  further  to  them.  So  she  asked 
what  they  were,  whence  they  tame,  and  whither  they 
were  bound — and  he  told  her.  Then  she  counselled 
him  that  when  he  arose  in  the  morning,  he  should  beat 
them  without  mercy.  So  when  he  arose,  he  getteth  a 
grievous  crab-tree  cudgel,  and  goes  down  into  the  dun- 
geon to  them,  and  there  first  falls  to  rating  of  them  as 
if  they  were  dogs,  although  they  never  gave  him  a 
word  of  distaste  :  then  he  falls  upon, them,  and  beat 
them  ftariully,  in  such  sort,  that  they  were  not  able  to 
help  themselves,  or  turn  them  upon  the  floor.  This 
done,  he  withdraws,  and  leaves  them  there  to  condole 
their  misery,  and  to  mourn  uncles  their  distress  :  so  all 
that  day  they  spent  their  time  in  nothing  but  sighs  and 
bitter  lamentation's.  The  next  night  she  talked  with 
her  husband  about  then  further,  and  understanding  that 
they  were  yet  alive,  did  advise  him  to  counsel  thtm  to 
make  away  themselves  :  so  when  morning  was  come, 
he  goes  to  them  in  a  surly  manner  as  before,  and,  per- 
ceiving them  to  be  very  sore  with  the  stripes  that  he 
had  given  them  the  day  before,  he  told  them  that,  since 
they  were  never  like  to  come  out  of  that  place,  their 
only  way  would  be  forthwith  to  make  an  end  of  them- 
selves, either  with  knife,  halter,  or  poison  :  for  why, 
said  he,  should  you  choose  life,  seeing  it  is  attended 
with  so  much  bitterness  ?  But  they  desired  him  to  let 
them  go.  With  that  he  looked  ugly  upon  them,  and 
rushing  to  them,  had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  the  m 

*  Psal,  Ixxxviii.  8. 


133 


himself,  but  that  he  fell  into  one  of  his  fits  (for  he  some- 
times in  sun-shiny  weather  teli  into  fits)  and  lost  for  a 
time  the  use  of  his  hand.  Wherefore  he  withdrew, 
and  left  them  a3  before  to  consider  what  to  cto.  Then 
did  the  prisoners  consult  between  themselves,  whether 
it  was  best  to  take  his  counsel  or  no;  and  thus  they  be- 
gan to  discourse  : 

Brother,  said  Christian,  what  shall  we  do  ?  The  life 
that  we  now  live  is  miserable  !  for  my  part,  I  know 
not  whether  it  is  best  to  live  thus,  or  die  out  of  hand  ; 
M  my  soul  chooselh  strangling  rather  than  life,"**  and 
the  grave  is  more  easy  for  me  than  this  dungeon  !  Shall 
we  be  ruled  by  the  giant  ? 

Hope.  Indeed  our  present  condition  is  dreadful,  and 
death  would  be  far  more  welcome  to  me,  than  thus  for 
ever  to  abide  :  but  yet  let  us  consider;  the  Lord  of  the 
country  to  which  we  are  going  nath  said,  u  Thou  shalt 
do  no  murder  :"  no,  not  to  another  man's  person  ;  much 
more  then  are  we  forbidden  to  take  the  giant's  counsel, 
to  kill  ourselves.  Besides,  he  that  kills  another,  can 
but  commit  murder  upon  his  body  :  but,  for  one  to  kill 
himself,  is  to  kill  body  and  soul  at  once.  And  moreo- 
ver, my  brother,  thou  talkest  of  ease  in  the  grave,  but 
hast  thou  forgotten  the  hell  whither  for  certain  the  mur- 
derers go  ?  for  "  no  murderer  hath  eternal  life,"  &c. 
And  let  us  consider  again,  that  all  the  law  is  not  in  the 
hand  of  Giant  Despair  :  others,  so  far  as  I  can  under- 
stand, have  been  taken  by  him  as  well  as  we,  and  yet 
have  escaped  outoflhis  hands.  Who  knows  but  that 
God,  who  made  the  world,  may  cause  that  Giant  Des- 
pair may  die,  or  that,  at  some  time  or  other,  he  may  for- 
get to  lock  us  in ;  or  that  he  may  in  a  short  time  have 
another  of  his  fits  before  us,  and  may  lose  the  use  of 
his  limbs  ?  and  if  ever  that  should  come  to  pass  again, 
for  my  part  I  am  resolved  to  pluck  up  the  heart  of  a 
man,  and  to  try  my  utmost  to  get  from  undor  his  hand. 
I  was  a  fool  that  1  did  not  try  to  do  it  before  ;  but  how- 
ever, my  brother,  let  us  be  patient,  and  endure  a  while  ; 
the  time  may  com*  that  may  give  us  a  happy  release  : 
but  let  usnot  be  our  own  murderers.  With  these  words 
Hopeful  at  present  did  moderate  the  mind  of  his  broth- 

*Jobvii.  15. 
M 


134  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

cr ;  so  they  continued  together,  in  the  dark,  that  day 
in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition. 

Well,  towards  evening  the  giant  goes  down  into  the 
dungeon  again,  to  see  if  his  prisoners  iud  taken  his  coun- 
sel :  but  when  he  came  there,  he  found  them  alive  ; 
and,  truly,  alive  was  all;  for  now,  what  for  want  of 
bread  and  water,  and  by  reason  of  the  wounds  they  re- 
ceived when  he  beat  them,  they  could  do  little  but 
breathe.  But,  I  say,  he  found  them  alive ;  at  which 
he  fell  into  a  grievous  rage,  and  told  them  that,  seeing 
they  had  disobeyed  his  counsel,  it  should  be  worse  with 
them  than  if  they  had  never  been  born. 

At  this  they  trembled  greatly,  and  I  think  that  Chris- 
tian "fell  into  a  swoon ;  but,  coming  a  little  to  himself 
again,  they  renewed  their  discourse  about  the  giant's 
counsel,  and  whether  yet  they  had  best  take  it  or  no. 
Now  Christian  a^ain  seemed  to  be  for  doing  it,  but 
Hopeful  made  his  second  reply  as  followeth  : 

My  brother,  said  he,  remt mberest  thou  not  how  val- 
iant thou  hast  been  heretofore  ?  Apollyon  could  not 
crush  thee, nor  could  all  that  thou  couldst  hear,  or  see, 
or  feel,  in  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death :  what 
hardship,  terror,  and  amazement,  hast  thou  already 
gone  through,  and  art  thou  new  nothing  but  fears  ?  Thou 
seest  that  I  am  in  the  dungeon  with  thee,  a  far  weaker 
man  by  nature  than  thou  art  ;  also  the  giant  has  woun- 
ded me  as  well  as  thee,  and  hath  also  cut  off  the  bread 
and  water  from  my  mouth,  and  with  that  I  mourn  with- 
out the  light.  But  let  us  exercise  a  little  more  pa- 
tience :  remember  how  thou  playedst  the  man  at  Van- 
ity-fair, and  was  neither  afraid  of  the  chain  or  cage,  nor 
yet  of  bloody  death  :  wherefore,  let  us,  at  least,  to  a- 
void  the  shame  that  becomes  not  a  Christian  to  be  found 
in,  bear  up,  with  patience  as  well  as  we  can. 

Now  night  being  come  again,  and  the  giant  and  his 
wife  being  in  bed,  she  asked  him  concerning  the  pris- 
oners, and  if  they  had  taken  his  counsel  : — to  which  he 
replied,  They  are  sturdy  rogues  :  they  choose  rather 
to  bear  all  hardship  rather  than  to  make  away  them- 
selves Then  said  she,  Take  them  into  the  castle- v<v 
to-morrow,  and  show  them  the  bones  and   sculls  of 

>se  thou  hast  already  despatched,  and  make  them  he- 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  135 

lieve,  ere  a  week  comes  to  an  end,  thou  also  will  tear 
them  in  pieces,  as  thou  hast  done  their  fellows  before 
them. 

So  when  the  morning  was  come  the  giant  goes  to 
them  again  and  takes  them  into  the  castle  yard,  and 
shows  them,  as  his  wife  had  bidden  him  :  These,  said 
he,  were  pilgrims, as  you  are,  once;  and  they  trespas- 
sed in  my  grounds,  as  you  have  done  ;  and  when  I 
thought  fit  i  tore  them  in  pieces,  and  so  within  ten  days 
I  will  do  you  :  get  you  down  into  your  den  again  : — and 
with  that  he  beat  them  all  the  way  thither.  They  lay 
therefore  all  day  on  Saturday  in  a  lamentable  case,  as 
before.  Now,  when  night  was  come,  and  when  Mrs. 
Diffidence  and  her  husband  the  giant  were  got  to  bed, 
they  began  to  renew  their  discourse  of  their  prisoners  ; 
and,  withal,  the  old  giant  wondered,  that  he  could 
neither  by  his  blows  nor  counsel  bring  them  to  an 
end.  And  with  that  his  wife  replied,  I  fear,  said  she, 
that  they  live  in  hopes  that  some  will  come  to  relieve 
them,  or  that  they  have  picklocks  about  them,  by  the 
means  of  which  they  hope  to  escape.  And  sayest  thou 
so,  my  dear  ?  said  the  giant ;  1  will  therefore  search 
them  in  the  morning. 

Well,  on  Saturday  about  midnight  they  began  to  pray, 
and  continued  in  prayer  till  almost  break  of  day. 

Now  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as  one 
half  amazed,  brake  out  in  this  passionate  speech  :  What 
a  fool,  quoth  hs,  am  I,  thus  to  lie  in  a  stinking  dungeon, 
when  I  may  as  well  walk  at  liberty  ?  I  have  a  key  in 
my  bosom,  called  Promise,  that  will,  I  am  persuaded, 
open  any  lock  in  Doubting  Castle.  Then  said  Hope- 
ful, That's  good  news,  good  brother,  plucji.  it  out  of  thy 
bosom  and  try. 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom,  and  began 
to  try  at  the  dungeon  door  ;  whose  bolt  as  he  turned 
the  key,  gave  back,  and  the  door  flew  open  with  ease, 
and  Christian  and  Hopeful  both  came  out  Then  he 
went  to  the  outward  door  that  leads  into  the  Castle-yard, 
and  with  his  key  opened  that  door  also.  After,  he  went 
to  the  iron  gate,  for  that  must  be  opened  too,  but  that 
lock  went  very  hard  ;  yet  the  key  did  open  it.  Then 
they  thrust  open  the  gate  to  make  their  escape  with 


136 

speed  ;  but  that  gate  as  it  opened,  made  such  a  crack- 
ing, that  it  waked  Giant  Despair,  who  hastily  rising  to 
pursue  his  prisoners  felt  his  limbs  to  fail,  for  his  fits  took 
him  again,  so  that  he  could  by  no  means  go  after  them. 
Then  they  went  on,  and  came  to  the  king's  highway,  and 
so  were  safe,because  they  were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 

Now  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they  began 
to  contrive  with  themselves  what  they  should  do  at  that 
stile,  to  prevent  those  that  should  come  after  from  fall- 
ing into  the  hand  of  Giant  Despair.  So  they  consented 
to  erect  there  a  pillar,  and  to  engrave  upon  the  side 
.  thereof  this  sentence,  '  Over  this  stile  is  the  way  to 
Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair,  who 
despiseth  the  king  of  the  celestial  country,  and  seeks  to 
destroy  the  holy  pilgrims.'  M  my  therefore  that  follow- 
ed after,  read  what  was  written  and  escaped  the  danger. 
— This  done,  they  sang  as  follows : 

*  Out  of  the  way  we  went,  and  then  we  found 

What  'twas  to  tread  upon  forbidden  ground : 

And  let  them  that  come  after  have  a  care  } 

Lest  they  for  trespassing  his  pris'ners  are  V 

Whose  castle's  Loubting,  and  whose  name's  Despair.'     ) 

They  went  then  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable 
Mountains  ;  which  mountains  belong  to  the  Lord  of  that 
hill,  of  which  we  have  spoken  before  ;  so  they  went  up 
the  mountain*,  to  behold  the  gardens  and  orchards,  the 
Tineyards  and  fountains  of  water:  where*  also  they  drank 
and  washed  themselves,  and  did  freely  eat  of  the  vine- 
yards. Now  there  were  on  the  tops  of  these  moun- 
tains, shepherds  feeding  their  flocks,  and  they  stood  by 
the  highway  side.  The  pilgrims  therefore  went  to 
them,  and  leaning  upon  their  staves  ^as  is  common 
with  weary  pilgrims  when  they  stand  to  talk  with  any 
by  the  way)  they  asked,  *  Whose  Delectable  Moun- 
tains are  these  ?  and  whose  be  the  sheep  that  feed  upon 
them  ? 

Shep.  The  mountains  are  Emmanuel's  Land,  and  they 
dvr  within  sight  of  his  city  ;  and  the  sheep  also  are  his> 
and  he  laid  down  his  life  for  them. 

Chr    Is  this  the  way  to  the  Celestial  city  ? 

Shep,  You  pre  just  in  the  way. 


THE   PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  137 

Chr.  How  far  is  it  thither  ? 

Shefi.  Too  far  for  any,  but  those  that  shall  get  thither 
indeed. 

Chr.  Is  the  way  safe  or  dangerous  ? 

Sheji.  Safe  for  those  for  whom  it  is  to  be  safe  ;  "  but 
transgressors  shall  full  therein."* 

Chr.  Is  there  in  this  place  any  relief  for  pilgrims,  that 
are  weary  and  faint  in  the  way  ? 

Shefi.  The  Lord  of  these  mountains  hath  giver  us  a 
charge  not  to  be  forgetful  to  entertain  strangers  ;"t 
therefore  the  good  of  the  place  is  before  you. 

I  also  saw  in  my  dream,  that,  when  the  Shepherds 
perceived  that  they  were  wayfaring  men,  they  also  put 
questions  to  them  (lo  which  they  made  answer,  as  in 
other  places)  as,  Whence  came  you  ?  and,  how  got  you 
into  the  way  ?  and  by  what  means  have  you  so  perse- 
vered therein  ?  for,  but  few  of  them  that  begin  to  come 
hither,  do  show  their  faces  on  this  mountain.  But  when 
the  shepherds  heard  their  answers,  being  pleased  there- 
with, they  looked  very  lovingly  upon  them,  and  said, 
Welcome  to  the  Delectable  Mountains 

The  shepherds,  I  say,  whose  names  were  Knowledge, 
Experience,  Watchful,  and  Sincere,  took  tnem  by  the 
hand,  and  had  them  to  their  tents,  and  made  them  par- 
take of  that  which  was  ready  at  present.  They  said, 
moreover,  We  would  that  you  should  stay  here  awhile, 
to  be  acquainted  with  us,  and  yet  more  to  solace  your- 
selves with  the  good  of  these  Delectable  Mountains. 
They  then  told  them,  that  they  were  content  to  stay  : 
so  they  went  to  their  rest  that  night,  because  it  was  ve- 
ry late. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  in  the  morning  the 
shepherds  called  up  Christian  and  Hopeful,  to  walk 
with  them  upon  the  mountains  :  so  they  went  forth  with 
them,  and  walked  a  while,  having  a  pleasant  prospect  on 
every  side.  Then  said  the  shepherds  one  to  another, 
Shall  we  show  these  pilgrims  some  wonders?  So,  when 
they  had  concluded  to  do  it,  they  had  them  firtt  to  the 
top  of  an  hill,  called  Error,  which  was  very  steep  on  the 
further  side,  and  b:d  them  look  down  to  the  bottom. 
So  Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  down,  and  saw  at  the 

*  Hos.  xiv.  9,  f  Heb.  xiii.  1,  2. 

M2 


138  THE   PILGRIM'S   PROGRESS. 

bottom  several  men  dashed  all  to  pieces,  by  a  fall  that 
they  had  trom  the  top.  Then  said  Christian,  What 
meaneth  this  ?  The  shepherds  answered,  Have  you  not 
heard  of  them  that  were  made  to  err,  by  hearkening  to 
Hymeneus,  and  Phrtetus,0  as  concerning  the  faith  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  body  ?  They  answered,  Yea. 
Then  said  the  shepherds.  Those  that  you  see  lie  dashed 
in  pieces  at  the  bottom  of  this  mountain  are  they  ;  and 
they  have  continued  to  this  day  unburied,  as  you  see, 
for  example  to  others  to  take  heed  how  they  clamber 
too  high,  or  how  they  come  too  near  the  brink  of  this 
mountain. 

Then  I  saw  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  another 
mountain,  and  the  name  of  that  is  Caution,  and  bid 
them  look  afar  off :  which  when  they  did,  they  percei- 
ved, as  they  thought,  several  men  walking  up  and  down 
among  the  tombs  that  were  there  :  and  they  perceived 
that  the  men  were  blind,  because  they  stumbled  some- 
times upon  the  tombs,  and  because  they  could  not  get 
out  from  among  them.  Then  said  Christian  what 
means  this  ? 

The  shepherds  then  answered,  Did  you  not  see  a  lit- 
tle below  these  mountains,  a  stile  that  leads  into  a  mea- 
dow, on  the  left  hand  of  this  way  ?  They  answered,  Yes. 
Then  said  the  shepherds,  From  that  stile  there  goes  a 
path,  that  leads  Directly  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is 
kept  by  Giant  Despair,  and  these  men  (pointing  to  them 
among  the  tomks)  came  once  on  pilgrimage,  as  you  do 
now,  even  till  they  came  to  that  same  stile.  And,  be- 
cause the  right  way  was  rough  in  that  place,  they  chose 
to  go  out  of  it  into  that  meadow,  and  there  were  taken 
by  Giant  Despair,  and  cast  into  Doubting  Castle;  where, 
after  they  had  awhile  been  kept  in  the  dungeon,  he  at 
last  did  put  out  their  eyes,  and  led  them  among  those 
tombs,  where  he  had  left  them  to  wander  to  this  very 
day,  that  the  saying  of  the  wise  man  might  be  fulfilled, 
«  He  that  wandereth  out  of  the  way  of  understanding, 
shall  remain  in  the  congregation  of  the  dead."f  Then 
Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  upon  one  another,  with 
tears  gushing  out,  but  yet  said  nothing  to  the  Shep- 
herds. 

*2  Tim.  u.  17,  18.  f  Prov.  xxi.  16, 


TH8    FILGRIM's    PROGRESS.  139 

Then  I  saw  in  ray  dream  that  the  shepherds  had  them 
to  another  place  in  a  bottom,  where  was  a  dooi  in  the 
side  of  an  hiii,  and  they  opened  the  door,  and  bid  tht  m 
look  Li.  They  looked  in  therefore,  and  saw  that  with- 
in it  was  rery  dark  and  smoky ;  tney  also  thought  that 
they  heard  there  a  rumbling  noise,  as  of  fire,  and  a  cry 
of  some  tormented  ;  and'  that  they  smelt  the  scent  of 
brimstone.  Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 
The  shepherds  told  them,  This  is  a  by-way  to  hell,  a 
way  that  hypocrites  go  in  at;  namely,  such  as  seil  their 
birth-right, with  Esau;  such  as  sell  their  Master,  with 
Judas  ;  such  as  blaspheme  the  gospel,  with  Alexan- 
der ;  and  that  lie  and  dissemble,  with  Annanias  and 
Sapphira  his  wife. 

Then  said  Hopeful  to  the  shepherds,  I  perceive  that 
these  had  on  them,  even  every  one,  a  show  of  pilgrim- 
age, as  we  have  now ;  had  they  not  ? 

Shefi,  Yea,  and  held  it  a  long  time  tco. 

Hope.  How  far  might  thry  go  on  in  pilgrimage  in 
their  days,  since  they  notwithstanding  were  thus  miser- 
ably cast  away  ? 

S/ic/i.  Some  further,  and  some  not  so  far  as  these 
mountains. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims  one  to  another,  We  had  need 
to  cry  to  the  strong  for  strength. 

Shefi.  Ay,  and  you  will  have  need  to  use  it  when  you 
have  it,  too. 

By  this  time  the  pilgrims  had  a  desire  to  go  for- 
wards, and  the  shepherds  a  desire  they  should  ;  so  they 
walked  together  towards  the  end  of  the  mountains. 
Then  said  the  shepherds  one  to  another,  Let  usht-c 
show  the  pilgrims  the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City,  if  they 
have  skill  to  look  through  our  prospective  glass.  The 
Pilgrims  then  lovingly  accepted  the  motion  :  so  they 
had  them  to  the  top  of  an  high  hill,  called  Clear,  and 
gave  them  the  glass  to  look. 

Then  they  essayed  to  look,  but  the  remembrance  of 
the  last  thing,  that  the  shepherds  had  showed  them 
made  their  hands  shake;  by  means  of  which  impedi- 
ment, they  could  not  look  steadily  through  the  glass  ; 
yet  thought  they  saw  something  like  the  gate,  and  also 


140  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

some  of  the  glory  of  the  place.    Then  they  went  away, 
anu  sang  this  song  : 

1  Thus  by  the  shepherds  secrets  are  reveal'd, 
Which  from  all  other  men  are  ktp^onceal'd  i 
Come  to  the  shepherds  then,  if  you  would  see 
Things  deep,  things  hid,  and  tnat  mysterious  be.' 

When  they  were  about  to  depart,  one  of  the  shep- 
herds gave  them  a  note  of  the  %vuy.  Another  of  them 
bid  them  beware  of  the  flatterer.  The  third  bid  them 
take  heed  that  they  slee/i  not  ufion  the  enchanted  ground. 
And  the  fourth  bid  them  good  speed.  So  I  awoke  from 
my  dream. 

And  I  slept  and  dreamed  again,  and  saw  the  same 
two  pilgrims  going  down  the  mountains,  along  the  high- 
way towards  the  city.  Now  a  little  below  these  moun- 
tains on  the  left  hand,  lieth  the  country  of  Conceit,  from 
which  country  there  comes  into  the  way  in  which  the 
pilgrims  walked,  a  little  crooked  lane.  Here,  therefore, 
they  met  with  a  very  brisk  lad,  that  came  out  of  that 
country,  and  his  name  was  Ignorance.  So  Christian 
asked  him  from  what  parts  he  came,  and  whither  he 
was  going  ? 

Ignor.  Sir,  I  was  born  in  the  country  that  lieth  off 
there  a  little  on  the  left  hand,  and  am  going  to  the  Ce- 
lestial city. 

Chr.  But  how  do  you  think  to  get  in  at  the-gate  ?  for 
you  may  find  some  difficulties  theie. 

As  other  good  people  do,  said  he. 

Chr  But  what  have  you  to  show  at  that  gate,  that 
may  cause  that  gate  to  be  opened  to  you  ? 

Ignor.  I  know  my  Lord's  will,  and  have  been  a  good 
liver  ;  I  pay  every  man  his  own ;  I  pr^y,  fast,  pay  tithes, 
and  give  alms,  and  have  left  my  country  for  whither  I 
am  going. 

Chr.  But  thou  earnest  not  in  at  the  wicket  gate  that  is 
at  the  head  of  this  way ;  thou  earnest  in  hither  through 
that  §ame  crooked  lane,  and  therefore  I  fear,  however 
thou  mayest  think  of  thyself,  when  the  reckoning-day 
shall  forae,  thou  wilt  have  laid  to  thy  charge,  that  thou 
art  ?l\  tluVf  and  a  robber,  instead  of  getting  admittance 
into  the  city. 


141 

Ignor.  Gentlemen,  ye  be  utter  strangers  to  me,  I 
know  you  not ;  be  content  to  follow  the  religion  of  your 
country,  and  I  will  follow  the  religion  of  mine.  I  hope 
all  will  be  well.  And,  as  for  the  gate  that  you  talk  of, 
ail  the  world  knows,  that  that  is  a  great  way  off  of  our 
com. try.  I  cannot  think  that  any  men  in  all  our  parts 
do  so  much  as  knew  the  way  to  it,  nor  need  they  mat- 
ter whether  they  do  or  no  ;  since  we  have  as  you  see,  a 
fine  pleasant  green  lane  that  comes  down  from  our  coun- 
try the.  nearest  way. 

When  Christian  saw  that  the  man  was  wise  in  his 
own  conceit,  he  said  to  Hopeful  whispcringly,  "  There 
is  more  hope  of  a  fool  than  <;f  him  ;*'*  and  said  moreo- 
ver, "  When  he  that  is  a  fool  walketh  by  the  way,  his 
wisdom  faileth  him,  and  he  saith  to  every  one  that  he  is 
a  fool."f  What,  shall  we  talk  further  with  him,  or  out- 
go him  at  present,  and  so  leave  him  to  think  of  what 
he  hath  heard  already,  and  then  stop  again  for  him  after- 
wards, and  see  if  by  degrees  we  can  do  any  good  by 
him  ?  Then  said  Hopeful, 

'  Let  ignorance  a   little  while  now  muse 
On  what  is  said,  and  let  him  not  refuse 
Good  counsel  to  embrace,  lest  he  remain 
Still  ignorant  of  what's  the  chieiest  gain. 
God  saith,  those  that  no  understanding  have, 
Although  he  made  them,  thera  he  will  not  save/ 

He  further  added,  it  is  not  good,  I  think,  to  say  to 
him  all  at  once  ;  let  us  pass  him  by,  if  you  will,  and  talk 
to  him  anon,  even  as  he  is  "  able  to  bear  it." 

So  they  both  went  on,  and  Ignorance  came  after. 
Now  when  they  had  passed  him  a  little  way,  they  en- 
tered into  a  very  dark  lane,  where  they  met  a  man 
whom  seven  devils  had  hound  with  sevemstrong  cords, 
and  were  carrying  him  back  to  the  door  that  they  saw 
on  the  side  of  the  hill  \  Now  good  Christian  began  to 
treable,  and  so  did  Hopeful  his  companion  :  yet  as  the 
•!s  led  away  the  man,  Christian  looked  to  so-  if  he 
knew  him  ;  and  he  thought  it  might  be  one  Turr-av 
that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostacy.      But  he  c^id  not 

*  Prov.  xxvi.  12.  f  Eccles.  x.  3.  tit.  xii.  45. 

Prov.  v.  22. 


142  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

perfectly  see  his  face  ;  for  he  did- hang  his  head  like  a 
thief  that  is  found.  But  being  gone  past,  Hopeful  ioo- 
ked  after  him,  and  espied  en  his  back  a  paper  with  this 
inscription,  '  Wanton  professor,  and  damnable  apos- 
tate/ Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  I  call  to 
remembrance  that  which  was  told  me,  of  a  thing  that 
happened  to  a  man  hereabout.  The  name  r r  the  man 
was  Little-faith  ;  but  a  good,  man  and  dwelt  in  the  town 
of  Sincere.  The  thing  was  this  : — at  the  entering  in 
at  this  passage,  there  come  down  from  Broad-way- 
gate,  a  lane,  called  Dead-man's  lane  :  so  called,  be- 
cause of  the  murders  that  are  commonly  done  there ; 
and  this  Little-faith  going  on  pilgrimage,  as  we  do  now, 
chanced  to  sit  down  there  and  slept :  new  there  happen- 
ed at  that  time  to  come  down  the  lane  from  Broad-way- 
gate,  three  sturdy  rogues,  and  their  names  were  Faint- 
heart, Mistrust  and  Guilt,  three  brothers  ;  and  they  es- 
pying Little-Faith  where  he  was,  came  galloping  up 
with  speed.  Nov/  the  good  man  was  just  awaked  from 
his  sleep,  and  was  getting  up  to  go  on  his  journey. 
So  they  came  up  ail  to  him,  and  with  threatening  lan- 
guage bid  him  stand.  At  this  Little  faith  looked  as 
white  as  a  clout,  and  had  neither  power  to  fight  nor 
ilee.  Then  said  Faint-heart,  ■  Deliver  thy  purse  ;'  but 
he  making  no  haste  to  do  it,  (for  he  was  loth  to  lose 
his  money,)  Mistrust  ran  up  to  him,  and  thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  pocket,  pulled  out  thence  a  hag  of  silver. 
Then  he  cried  out  'Thieves!  thieves  1'  With  that 
Guilt,  with  a  great  club  that  was  in  his  hand,  struck 
Little-faith  on  the  head  and  with  that  blow  felled  him 
flat  to  the  ground  ;  where  he  lay  bleeding,  as  one  that 
would  bleed  to  death.  All  this  while  the  thieves  stood 
by.  But  at  last,  they  hearing  that  some  were  upon  the 
road,  and  fearing"  lest  it  should  be  one  Great-grace, 
that  dwells  in  the  city  of  Good-confidence,  they  betook 
themselves  to  their  heels,  and  left  this  good  man  to  shift 
for  himself;  who,  getting  up,  made  shift  to  scramble 
or.  his   ,vav — This  was  the  story. 

Hofie.  But  did  they  take  from  him  all  that  ever  he 
had  ? 

Chr.  No  :  the  place  where  his  jewels  were,  they  ne- 
ver ransacked :  so  these  he  kept  still.      But,  as  1  was 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  14^ 

told,  the  good  man  was  much  afflicted  for  his  loss ;  for 
the  thieves  got  most  of  his  spending  money.  That  which 
they  got  not,  as  I  said,  were  jewels  :  also  he  had  a  little 
odd  money  left,  but  scarce  enough  to  bring  him  to  his 
journey's  end;*  nay,  if  I  was  not  misinformed*  lie  was 
forced  to  beg  as  he  went,  to  keep  himself  alive  (for  his 
jewels  he  might  not  sell.)  But  beg  and  do  what  he 
could,  '  he  went,'  as  we  say,  '  v\ith  many  a  hungry 
belly,'  the  most  part  of  the  rest  of  the  way. 

Hofie.  But  is  it  not  a  wonder  they  got  not  from  him 
his  certificate,  by  which  he  was  to  receive  his  admit- 
tance at  the  Celestial  gate  ? 

Chr,  It  is  a  wonder  :  but  they  got  not  that ;  though 
they  missed  it  not  through  any  good  cunning  of  his ; 
for  he,  being  dismayed  with  their  commg  upon  him, 
had  neither  power  nor  skill  to  bids  any  thing,  so  it  was 
more  by  good  providence  than  by  his  endeavor,  that 
they  missed  of  that  good  thing. f 

Hope.  But  it  must  needs  be  a  comfort  to  him,  that 
they  got  not  his  jewels  from  him. 

Chr.  It  might  have  been  'jreat  comfort  to  him,  had 
he  used  it  as  he  should ;  but  they  who  told  me  the  sto- 
ry, said,  that  he  made  but  little  use  of  it  at  all  the  rest  of 
the  way  ;  and  that,  because  of  the  dismay  that  he  had 
in  the  taking  away  his  money.  Indeed  he  forgot  it  a 
great  part  of  the  rest  of  his  journey ;  and  besides,  when 
at  any  time  it  came  into  his  mind,  and  he  began  to  be 
comforted  therewith,  then  would  fresh  thoughts  of  his 
loss  come  again  upon  him,  and  those  thoughts  would 
swallow  up  ail. 

Hofie.  Alas,  poor  man  I  this  could  not  but  be  a  great 
grief  unto  hi 

Chr.  Grief?  ay,  a  grief  indeed.  Would  it  not  have 
been  so  to  any  of  us,  had  we  been  used  as  he,  to  be 
robbed  and  wounded  too,  and  thac  in  a  stnmge  place,  as 
he  was  ?  It  is  a  wonder  he  did  not  die  with  grief,  poor 
heart :  1  was  told  he  scattered  almost  all  the  rest  of  the 
way,  with  nothing  but  doleful  and  bitter  complaints  : 
telling  also  to  all  who  overtook  him,  or  that  he  over- 
took in  the  way  as  he  went,  where  he  was  robbrd,  and 
how  :  who  they  were  that  did  it,  and  what  he  lost ;  how 

*lPet.m!8i  f  2  Tiro,  i.  14.    2Pet.ii.  0. 


144  the  pilqrLm's  progress. 


he  was  wounded,  and  that  he  hardly  escaped  with  his 
hfe. 

Hojie.  But  it  is  a  wonder  that  his  necessity  did  not 
put  him  upon  selling  or  pawning  some  of  his  jewels, 
that  he  might  have  wherewith  to  relieve  himself  in  his 
journey. 

Chr.  Thou  talkest  like  one  upon  whose  head  is  the 
sheii  to  this  very  day  :  for  what  should  he  pawn  them  ? 
or  to  wnom  should  he  sell  them  ?  In  all  that  country 
where  he  was  robbed,  his  jewels  were  not  accounted  of; 
nor  did  he  want  that  relief  which  could  from  thence  be 
administered  to  him.  Besides,  had  his  jewels  been 
missing  at  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  city,  he  had  (and  that 
he  knew  well  enough)  been  excluded  from  an  inherit- 
ance there,  and  that  would  have  been  worse  to  him  than 
the  appeatance  and   villany  often  thousand  thieves. 

Hofie.  Why  art  thou  so  tart,  my  brother  ?  Esau  sold 
his  birthright,  and  that  for  a  mess  of  pottage  ;*  and  that 
birth-right,  was  his  greatest  jewel  :  and,  if  he,  why 
might  not  Little-faith  do  so  too  ? 

Chr.  Esau  did  sell  his  birth-right  indeed,  and  so  do 
many  besides,  and  by  so  doing,  exclude  themselves 
from  the  chief  blessing  ;  as  also  that  caitiff  did  :  but 
you  must  put  a  difference  betwixt  Esau  and  Little- faith, 
and  also  betwixt  their  estates.  Esau's  birth-right  was 
typical,  but  Li'tle-iaith's  jewels  were  not  so.  Esau's 
belly  was  his  god,  but  Little -faith's  belly  was  not  so.  E- 
sau's  want  lay  in  his  fleshly  appetite,  Little-faith's  did 
not  so.  Besides  Esau  could  see  no  further  than  to  the 
fulfilling  of  his  lust :  "  For  1  am  at  the  point  to  die," 
said  he,  "  and  what  good  will  this  birth  right  do  me  ?"f 
But  Little-frith,  though  it  was  his  lot  to  have  but  a  little 
faith,  was  by  hi** little  faith  kept  from  such  extravagan- 
cies, and  made  to  see  and  prize  his  jewels  more,  than 
to  sell  them  as  Esau  did  his  birth-right.  You  read  not 
any  where  that  Esau  had  faith,  no,  not  so  much  as  a  lit- 
tle ;  therefore  no  marvel,  if  where  the  flesh  only  bears 
sway  (as  it  will  in  that  man  where  no  faith  is,  to  resist) 
if  heselis  his  birth  right  and  his  soul  and  all,  and  that  to 
the  devil  of  hell  :  for  it  is  with  such  as  it  is  with  the  ass, 
({  who  in  her  occasions  cannot  be  turned  away  :"$  when 

*  Heb.  xii.  16.       f  Gen.  xxr.  29—34.       J  Jer.  ii.  24. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS^  14j 

cheir  minds  are  set  upon  theii  lusts,  they  will  have 
them,  whatever  they  cost.  But  Little-faith  was  of  ano- 
ther temper,  his  mind  was  on  things  divine  ;  his  liveli- 
hood was  upon  things  that  were  spiritual  and  from  a- 
bove  ;  therefore  to  what  end  should  he  that  is  of  such  a 
temper  sell  his  jewels  (had  there  been  any  that  would 
have  bought  them)  to  fill  his  mind  with  empty  thi.igs  ? 
Will  a  man  give  a  penny  to  fill  his  belly  with  hay  ?  Or 
can  you  persuade  the  turtle  dove  to  live  upon  carrion 
like  the  crow  ?  Though  faithless  ones  can,  for  carnal 
lusts,  pawn,  or  mortgage,  or  sell  wnat  they  have,  and 
themselves  outright  to  boot,  yet  they  that  nave  faith,  sa- 
ving faith,  though  but  little  of  it,  cannot  do  so.  Here, 
therefore,  my  brother,  is  thy  mistake. 

Hofie.  I  acknowledge  it ;  but  yet  your  severe  reflec- 
tion had  almost  made  me  angry. 

C/ir.  Why  !  I  did  but  compare  thee  to  some  of  the 
birds  that  are  of  the  brisker  sort,  who  will  run  to  and 
fro  in  untrodden  paths,  with  the  shell  upon  their  head  : 
— but  pass  by  that,  and  consider  the  matter  undei  de- 
bate, and  all  shall  be  well  betwixt  thee  and  me. 

Hofie.  But  Christian,  these  three  fellows,  I  am  per- 
suaded in  my  heart,  are  but  a  company  of  cowards  : 
would  they  have  run  else,  think  you,  as  they  did,  at  the 
noise  of  one  that  was  coming  on  the  road  ?  Why  did 
not  Little- faith  pluck  up  a  greater  heart  ?  He  might 
methinks,  have  stood  one  brush  with  them,  and  have 
yielded,  when  there  had  been  no  remedy. 

Chr.  That  they  are  cowards,  many  have  said,  but  few 
have  found  it  so  in  the  time  of  trial.  A.s  for  a  great 
heart.  Little-faith  had  none ;  and  I  perceive  by  thee,  rny 
brother,  hadst  thou  been  the  man  concerned,  thou  art 
but  for  a  brush,  and  then  to  yield.  And  verily,  since 
this  is  the  height  of  thy  stomach,  now  they  are  at  a  dis- 
tance from  us,  should  they  appear  to  thee,  as  they  did 
to  him,  they  might  put  thee  to  second  thoughts. 

But  consider  again,  they  are  but  journeymen  thieves-, 
they  serve  under  the  king  of  the  bottomless  pit ;  who 
if  need  be,  will  come  to  their  aid  himself,  and  his  voice 
is  as  the  x"oadug  of  a  Hon.*  I  myself  have  been  engaged 
as  this  Little-faith  was  ;  and  I  found  it  a  terrible  thing-. 

*  1  Pet.  vi.  8. 
N 


146 

These  three  villains  sot  upon  me,  and  I  beginning  like 
a  Christian  to  resist,  they  gave  out  a  call,  and  in  came 
their  master  :  I  would,  as  the  saying  is,  have  given  my 
life  for  a  penny  ;  but  that,  as  God  would  have  it,  I  was 
clothed  with  armor  of  proof.  Ay,  and  yet,  though  I 
was  so  harnessed,  I  found  it  hard  work  to  quit  myself 
like  a  man  :  no  man  can  tell  what  in  that  combat  at- 
tends us,  but  he  that  hath  been  in  the  combat  himself. 

Hjjie.  Well,  but  they  ran,  you  see,  when  they  did  but 
suppose  that  one  Great-grace  was  in  the  way.  "j 

Chr.  True,  they  have  often  fled,  both  they  and  their 
master,  when  Great-grace  hath  appeared ;  and  no  mar- 
Tel,  for  he  is  the  kind's  champion :  but,  1  trow,  you  will 
put  some  difference  between  Little-faith  and  the  King's 
champion.  All  the  king's  subjects  are  not  hischampi- 
uns  ;  nor  can  they,  when  tried,  do  such  feats  of  war  as 
he.  Is  it  meet  to  think  that  a  little  child  should  handle 
Goliah  as  David  did  i  or  that  there  should  be  the  strength 
of  an  ox  in  a  wren  ?  Some  are  strong,  some  are  weak; 
some  have  great  faith,  some  have  little  ;  this  man  was 
one  of  the  weak,  and  therefore  he  went  to  the  wall. 

Hope.  I  would  it  had  been  Great-grace,  for  his  sake. 

Chr  If  it  had  been  he,  he  might  have  had  his  hands 
full :  for  I  must  tell  you,  that  though  Great-grace  is  ex- 
cellent good  at  his  weapon,  and  has,  and  can,  so  long  as 
he  keeps  them  at  swot d's  point,  do  well _  enough  with 
them,  yet  if  they  get  within  him,  even  Faint-heart,  Mis- 
trust, or  the  other,  it  will  go  hard,  but  that  they  will 
throw  up  his  heels:  and  when  a  man  is  down,  yow. 
know,  what  can  he  do  ? 

Whoso  looks  well  upon  Great-graced  fare,  shall  see 
those  scars  and  cuts  there,  that  shall  easily  give  demon- 
strations of  what  I  say.  Yea,  once  1  heard  that  he  should 
say  (and  that  whrn  he  was  in  the  combat)  *  We  despai- 
red even  of  life."  How  did  these  sturdy  rogues  and 
their  fellows  make  David  groan,  mourn,  and  roar  ?  Yea, 
Herman  md  Hezekiah  too,  though  champions  in  their 
days,  were  forced  to  bestir  them,  when  by  these  assaul- 
ted ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding,  they  had  their  coats  soun- 
dly brushed  by  them.  Peter,  upon  a  time,  would  go 
try  what  he  could  do  ;  but  though  some  do  say  of  him, 
that  he  is  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  they  handled  him  so. 
that  they  made  him  at  last  afraid  of  a  sorry  girl. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  147 

Besides,  their  king  is  at  their  whistle  ;  he  is  never 
out  ot  hearing  :  and  if  at  any  time  they  be  put  *.o  the 
worst,  he,  if  possible,  comes  in  to  help  them  :  and  of 
him  it  is  said,  "  the  sword  of  him  that  layeth  at  him  can- 
not hold ;  the  spear,  the  dart,  nor  the  habergeon  ;  he 
esteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and  brass  as  rotten  wood  :  the 
arro  w  cannot  make  him  flee,  sling  stones  are  turned,  with 
him  into  stubble  ;  darts  are  counted  as  stubble  ;  he 
laughed  at  the  shaking  of  a  spear."*  What  can  a  man 
do  in  this  case  ?  it  is  true,  if  a  man  could  at  every  turn 
have  Job's  horse,  and  had  skill  and  courage  to  ride  him, 
he  might  do  notable  things  ;  for  "  his  neck  is  clothed 
with  thunder  ;  he  will  not  be  afraid  as  a  grass-hopper  ; 
the  glory  of  his  nostrils  is  terrible  ;  he  paweth  in  the 
valley,  and  rejoiceth  in  his  strength,  he  goeth  on  to 
meet  the  armed  men  :  he  mocketh  at  fear,  and  is  not 
affrighted,  neither  turneth  he  back  from  the  sword  :  the 
quiver  rattleth  against  him,  the  glittering  spear  and  the 
shield  :  he  swalloweth  the  ground  with  fierceness  ancl 
rage,  neither  believeth  he  that  it  is  the  sound  cf  the 
trumpet.  He  saith  among  the  trumpets,  Ha,  ha  j  and 
he  smelteth  the  battle  afar  off,  the  thunder  of  the  cap- 
tains and  the  shoutings."! 

But  for  such  footmen  as  thee  and  I  are,  let  us  never 
desire  to  meet  with  any  enemy,  nor  vaunt  as  if  we  ccukl 
do  better,  when  we  hear  of  others  that  they  have  been 
toiled;  nor  be  tickled  at  the  thought  of  our  own  man- 
hood, for  such  commonly  come  by  the  worst  when  tri« 
ed.  Peter,  of  whom  I  made  mention  before,  he  would 
swagger,  ay,  he  would ;  he  would,  as  his  vain  mind 
prompted  him  to  say,  do  better,  and  stand  more  for  his 
master  than  all  men  :  but  who  so  foiled  and  run  down 
by  those  villains  as  he  ? 

When  therefore  we  hear  that  such  robberies  are 
done  on  the  king's  highway,  two  things  become  us  to 
do:  first,  to  go  out  harnessed,  and  to  be  sure  to  take  a 
shield  with  us;  for  it  was  for  want  of  that,  that  he  that 
laid  so  lustily  at  Leviathan,  could  not  make  him  yield  ; 
for,  indeed,  if  that  be  wanted,  he  fears  us  not  at  all. 
Therefore  he  that  had  skill,  hath  said,  "  above  all,  take 

*  Job  xli.  26—20,  f  Job  xxxix.  19—25. 


148  THE    PILGRIM'S    PR0GRE9S. 

the  shield  of  faith,  wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quencli 
all  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked/'* 

It  is  good  also  that  we  desire  of  the  King  a  convoy, 
that  he  will  go  with  us  himself.  This  made  David  re- 
joice when  in  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  ;  and 
Moses  was  rather  for  dying  where  he  stood  than  to  go 
one  step  without  his  God.f  O  my  brother,  if  he  will 
but  go  along  with  us,  what  need  we  be  afraid  of  ten 
thousand  that  shall  set  themselves  against  us  ?  but 
without  him  "  the  prou  J  helpers  fall  under  the  slain."J 

I,  tor  my  part,  have  been  in  the  fray  before  now  ; 
and  though,  through  the  goodness  of  him  that  is  best, 
I  am,  as  you  see,  alive,  yet  I  cannot  boast  of  any  man- 
hood. Glad  shall  I  be  if  1  meet  with  no  more  such 
bmnts ;  though  I  fear  we  are  not  got  beyond  all  danger. 
However,  since  the  lion  and  the  bear  have  not  as  yet 
devoured  me,  I  hope  God  will  deliver  us  from  the  nest 
uncircumcised  Philistines.     Then  sang  Christian — 

4  Poor  Little  Faith  *  hast  been  amung  the  thieves  ? 
Wast  robb'd  ?  Fernember  this,  whoso  believes, 
And  get  luore  faith,  then  shall  you  victors  be 
Over  ten  thousands,  else  scarce  over  three.' 

So  they  went  on,  and  Ignorance  followed.  They 
went  then  till  they  came  at  a  place  where  they  saw  a 
way  put  itself  into  their  way,  and  seemed  withal  to  lie 
as  strait  as  the  way  which  they  should  go  ;  and  here 
they  knew  not  which  of  the  two  to  take,  for  both  seem- 
ed strait  before  them  :  therefore  here  they  stood  still  to 
consider.  And  as  they  were  thinking  about  the  way, 
behold,  a  man  of  bjack  flesh,  but  covered  with  a  very 
light  robe,  came  to  them,  and  asked  them,  why  they 
stood  there  ?  They  answered,  They  were  a  going  to 
the  Celestial  City,  but  knew  not  which  of  these  ways 
to  take.  *  Follow  me,'  says  the  man,  *  it  is  thither  that 
I  am  going.'  So  they  followed  him  in  the  way  that  but 
now  came  into  the  road,  which  by  degrees  turned  and 
turned  them  so  from  the  city  that  they  desired  to  go 
to,  that  in  a  little  time  their  faces  were  turned  away 
from  it :  yet  they  followed  him.     But  by  and  by,  before 

En'i  .  vi.  16.        f  Ksod.  xxxiii.  \5.      t  Psalna  iii.  5—8 
■sxvii.  1 — 3.  lsa.  x.  4. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  149 

they  were  aware,  he  led  them  both  within  the  compass 
of  a  net,  in  which  they  were  both  so  entangled,  that  they 
knew  not  what  to  do :  and  with  that,  the  white  roue 
fell  off  the  black  man's  back:  then  they  saw  where 
they  were.  Wherefore  there  they  lay  crying  some 
timetfor  they  could  not  get  themselves  out. 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  do  I  see  my- 
self in  an  error.  Did  not  the  Shepherds  bid  us  beware 
of  the  flatterers  ?  Asi9  the  saying  of  the  wise  mx>>  sq 
have  we  lound  it  this  day,  "  A  man  that  flattereth  his 
neighbor,  spreadeth  a  net  for  his  feet."* 

Hofie.  They  also  gave  us  a  note  of  directions  about 
the  way,  for  our  more  sure  finding  thereof;  but  herein 
we  have  also  forgotten  to  read,  and  have  not  kept  our- 
selves from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer."  Here  David 
was  wiser  than  we ;  for  saith  he,  "  concerning  the 
works  of  men,  by  the  word  of  thy  lips,  I  have  kept  me 
from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer."!  Thus  they  lay  be- 
wailing themselves  in  the  net. — At  kst  they  spied  a  shi- 
ning one  coming  towards  them,  with  a  whip  of  small 
cords  in  his  hand.  When  he  was  come  to  the  place 
where  they  were,  he  asked  them,  whence  they  came, 
and  what  they  did  there  ?  They  told  him,  that  they  were 
poor  pilgrims  going  to  Zi  ;n,  but  were  led  out  of  their 
way  by  a  black  man  clothed  in  white,  who  bid  us.  said 
they,  follow  him,  for  he  was  going  thither  too.  Then 
said  he  with  the  whip,  it  is  a  flatterer,  *  a  false  apostle, 
that  hatn  transformed  himself  into  an  angel  of  light."$ 
So  he  rent  the  net,  and  let  the  men  out.  Then  said 
he  to  them,  Follow  me,  that  1  may  set  you  in  the  way 
again  :  so  he  led  them  back  to  tne  way  which  they  had 
left  to  follow  the  flatterer.  Then  he  asked  them,  s  v- 
in^,  Where  did  you  lie  the  last  night  ?  They  said,  With 
the  shepherds  upon  the  Delectable  Mountains.  He  as- 
ked them  then,  if  they  had  not  a  note  of  direction  for 
the  way  ?  They  answered.  Yes.  But  did  you,  said  he, 
when  yon  were  at  a  stand,  pluck  out  and  read  your  note? 
Thi'y  answered,  No.  He  asked  them,  Why  ?  They 
saici,  they  forgot.  He  ssked  moreover,  If  the  shenherrls 
did  not  bid  them  be  wire  of  the  flatterer  ?  They  answer- 

*  Prov  x?rix.  5.        f  Psal.  xvii,  4.         $2  Cor.  xi.  13, 14.  f 
Dan.  xi.  32. 

N  2 


150  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

ed,  YeB  ;  but  we  did  not  imagine,  said  they,  that  this 
fine  spoken  man  had  been  he.* 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dieam,  that  he  commanded  them 
to  lie  down  ;f  which  when  they  did,  he  chastised  them 
sore,  to  teach  them  the  good  way  wherein  they  should 
walk:!  and, as  he  chastised  them,  he  said,  M  As  many 
as  I  love,  I  rebuke  and  chasten  ;  be  zealous,  theiefore, 
and  repent."§  This  done,  he  bid  them  go  on  their  way, 
and  take  good  heed  to  the  other  directions  of  the  shep- 
herds. So  they  thanked  him  for  all  his  kindness,  and 
went  softly  along  the  right  way,  singing— 

*  Come  hither,  you  that  walk  along  the  way, 
See  how  the  pilgrims  fare  that  go  astray  : 
They  catched  are  in  an  entangliug  net, 
'Cause    they  good  counsel  lightly  did  forget  : 
"Tis  true,  they  rescu*d  were  ;  but  yet,  you  see, 
They're  scourg'd  to  boot : — let  this  your  caution  be.' 

Now  after  a  while,  they  perceived  afar  off,  one  coming 
softly,  alone,  all  along  the  highway,  to  meet  them.  Then 
said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Yonder  is  a  man  with  his 
back  towards  Zion,  and  he  is  coming  to  meet  us. 

Hope .  I  see  him  ;  let  us  take  heed  to  ourselves  now, 
lest  he  should  prove  a  flatterer  also.  So  he  drew  nea- 
rer and  nearer,  and  at  last  came  up  to  them.  His 
name  was  Atheist  \  and  he  asked  them  whither  they 
were  going  ? 

Chr.  We  are  going  to  mount  Zion. 

Then  Atheist  fell  into  a  very  great  laughter. 

Chr.  What  is  the  meaning  of  your  laughter  ? 

Ath  I  laugh  to  see  what  ignorant  persons  you  are,  to 
take  upon  you  so  ridiculous  a  journey  j  and  yet  are  like 
to  have  nothing  but  your  travel  for  your  pains. 

Chr.  Why,  man,  do  you  think  we  shall  not  be  received  ? 

Ath.  Received  1  there  is  no  such  place  as  you  dream 
of  in  all  this  world. 

Chr.  But  there  is  in  the  world  to  come. 

Ath.  When  1  was  at  home,  in  mine  own  country,  1 
beard  as  you  now  affirm,  and  from  that  hearing  went  out 
to  see,  and  have  been  seeking  this  city  twenty  years,  but 
find  no  more  of  it  than  I  did  the  first  day  1  set  outll 
*  Rom.  xvi.  17.  18.    f  Deut.  xxix.  2.    \  2  Chron.  vi.  26,  2? 

$  Rev.  in.  19.       [\  Eccl,  x,  15,    J* r.  xvii.  1$. 


THE  PILGRIM^  progress.  151 

Chr.  We  have  both  heard  and  believe  that  there  is 
such  a  ^lace  to  be  found. 

Aih.  Had  not  1,  when  at  home,  believed,  I  had  not 
come  thus  fai  to  seek  ;  hut  finding  none  (and  yet  I 
should,  had  there  been  such  a  place  to  be  found,  for  I 
have  gone  to  seek  it  further  than  you)  I  am  going  back 
again,  and  wilj  seek  to  refresh  myself  with  the  things 
that  I  then  cast  away  for  hopes  of  that  which  I  now  see 
is  not. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  his  companion,  Is  it 
true  which  this  man  hath  said  ? 

Hofie.  Take  heed,  he  is  one  of  the  flatterers :  remem- 
ber what  it  hath  cost  us  once  already,  for  our  hearken- 
ing to  such  kind  of  fellows.  What  !  no  mount  Zion  ? 
Did  we  not  see  from  the  Delectable  Mountains  the  gate 
of  the  city?  Also,  are  we  not  now  to  walk  by  faith  i* 
Let  us  go  on,  said  Hopeful,  lest  the  man  with  the  whip 
overtake  us  again.  You  should  have  taught  me  that 
lesson,  which  I  will  sound  in  the  ears  withal  :  "Cease 
my  sons  to  hear  the  instruction  that  causeth  to  err  from 
the  words  of  knowledge  ;"t  I  say,  my  brother  cease  to 
hear  him,  and  let  us  believe  to  the  saving  of  the  soul. 

Chr.  My  brother,  I  did  not  put  the  question  to  thee, 
for  that  I  doubted  of  the  truth  of  your  belief  myself,  but 
to  prove  thee,  and  to  fetch  fiorn  thee  a  fruit  of  the  hon- 
esty of  thy  heart.  As  for  this  man,  I  know  that  he  is 
blinded  by  the  god  of  this  world.  Let  thee  and  I  go  on, 
knowing  that  we  have  belief  of  the  truth  !  and  "  no  lie 
is  of  the  truth/'f 

Hofie.  Now  I  do  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God. 
So  they  turned  away  from  the  man,  and  he,  laughing  at 
them,  went  his  way. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  till  they  came 
into  a  certain  country,  whose  air  naturally  tended  to  make 
one  drowsy,  if  he  came  a  stranger  into  it.  And  here 
Hopeful  began  to  be  very  dull  and  heavy  of  sleep : 
wherefore  he  said  unto  Christian,  I  now  begin  to  gro^  so 
drowsy,  that  I  can  scarcely  holdup  mine  eyes;  let  us 
lie  down  here,  and  take  one  nap. 

By  no  means,  said  the  other  j  lest,  sleeping,  we  nev- 
er wake  more. 

*2Cor.  v.  7.    f  Prov.  a&.  27.  Heb.  x.  39.    4 1  John  ii.  2\. 


152 


Ilo/ie.  Why,  my  brother  ?  sleep  is  sweet  to  the  labor** 
ingraan ;  we  may  be  refreshed  if  we  take  a  nap. 

Chr.  Do  you  not  remember  that  one  of  the  shep- 
herds bid  us  beware  of  the  Enchanted  Ground  ?  He 
meant  by  that,  that  we  should  beware  of  sleeping ; 
"  wherefore  let  us  not  sleep,  as  do  others,  but  let  us 
watch,  and  be  sober."* 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  myself  in  a  fault;  and,  had  I 
been  here  alone,  1  had  by  sleeping  run  the  danger  of 
death.  I  see  it  is  true  what  the  wise  man  saith,  "  Two 
are  better  than  one.'*!  Hitherto  hath  thy  company  been 
my  mercy  ;  and  thou  ahalt  '•  have  a  good  reward  for 
thy  labor." 

Now  then,  said  Christian,  to  prevent  drowsiness  in 
this  place,  let  us  fall  into  good  discourse. 

With  all  my  heart,  said  the  other. 

Chr.  Where  shall  we  begin  ? 

Hope.  WThere  God  began  with  us  :  do  you  begin  if 
you  please. 

Chr.  I  will  sing  you  first  this  song — 

1  When  saints  do  sleepy  grow,  let  them  come  hither, 

.And  hear  W^P  these  \.\\o  pilgrims  talk  together  : 

Yea,  let  them  learn  of  them  in  any  ".vise 

Thus  toke*p  ope  their  drowsy  slumb' ring  eyes. 

Saints'  fellowship,  if  it  be  nianag'd  well. 

Keeps  them  awake,  and  that  iu  spite  of  hell.' 

Then  Christian  began,  and  said,  I  will  ask  you  a 
question:  How  came  you  at  first  to  think  of  doing  what 
you  do  now  ? 

Hope.  Do  you  mean,  how  came  I  at  first  to  look  af- 
ter the  £ooci  of  my  soul  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  my  meaning. 

Hope.  I  roiitii  tied  a  great  while  in  the  delight  of  those 
things  which  were  seen  and  sold  at  our  fair;  things 
which  I  believe  now,  would  have,  had  I  continued  in 
tbefn  sttH.  drowned  me  in  perdition  and  destruction. 

Chr.  What  things  are  they  ? 

Hope.  All  the  treasures  and  riches  of  the  world.  Al- 
so I  delighted  ir-uch  in  rioting,  revelling,  drinkirg, 
swearing,   lying,   uncleanness,   sabbath-breaking,    and 

*  Thes.  v.  6.  t  Eccl.  iv.  9. 


153 

what  not,  that  tended  to  destroy  the  soul.  But  I  found, 
at  last,  by  hearing  and  considering  of  things  that  are  di- 
vine, which  indeed  I  heard  of  you,  as  also  of  beloved 
Faithful,  who  was  put  to  death  for  his  faith  and  good  li- 
ving in  Vanity-fair,  that  "  the  end  of  these  things  is 
death  ;'*  and  that  "  for  these  things*  sake,  the  wralh  of 
God  cometh  upon  the  children  of  disobedience."* 

Chr.  And  did  you  presently  fall  under  the  power  of 
this  conviction  ? 

Hope.  No  ;  I  was  not  willing  presently  to  know  the 
evil  of  sin,  nor  the  damnation  that  follows  upon  the  com- 
mission of  it;  but  endeavored,  when  my  mind  at  first 
began  to  be  shaken  with  the  word,  to  shut  mine  eyes  a- 
gainst  the  light  thereof. 

Chr.  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  carrying  of  it 
thus  to  the  first  workings  of  God's  blessed  Spirit  upon 
you. 

Hope.  The  causes  were — 1.  I  was  ignorant  that  this 
was  the  work  of  God  upon  me.  I  never  thought  that  by 
awakenings  for  sin,  God  at  first  begins  the  conversion 
of  a  sinner.  2.  Sin  was  yet  very  sweet  to  my  flesh,  and 
I  wasloth  to  leave  it.  3.  I  could  not  tell  how  to  part  with 
my  old  companions,  their  presence  and  actions  were  so 
desirable  unto  me.  4.  The  hours  in  which  convictions 
were  upon  me,  were  such  troublesome  and  such  heart- 
affrighting  hours,  that  I  could  not  bear,  no,  not  so  much 
as  the  remembrance  of  them  upon  my  heart. 

Chr.  Then,  it  seems,  sometimes  you  got  relief  of  your 
trouble  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  verily,  hut  it  would  come  into  my  mind 
again,  and  then  I  would  be  as  bad,  nay,  worse  than  I  was 
before. 

Chr.  Why  what  was  it  that  brought  your  sins  to  mind 
again  ? 

Hope.  Many  things :  as,  if  I  did  but  meet  a  good  man 
in  the  street  ;  or  if  1  have  heard  any  read  in  the  Bible  ; 
or  if  mine  head  did  begin  to  ache  ;  or  if  I  were  told  that 
some  of  my  neighbors  were  sick  ;  or  if  I  heard  the  bell 
toil  for  some  that  were  dead  ;  or  if  I  thought  of  dying 
myself;  or  if  I  heard  that  sudden  death  happened  to 
others  ;  but  especially  when  I  thought  of  myself,  that  I 
must  quickly  come  to  judgment. 

*  Rom.  vi.  21—23.    Eph.  v.  G, 


154  THE    PlLGRlftfd    PROGRESS. 

C/ir.  And  could  you  at  any  time,  with  ease  get  eft  the 
guilt  of  sin,when  by  any  of  these  ways  it  came  upon  you. 

Hofie.  No,  noti  ;  for  then  they  got  faster  hold  of  rny 
conscience  :  and  then,  if  1  did  but  think  or  going  back 
to  sin  (though  my  mind  was  turned  against  it)  it  would 
be;  double  torment  to  me. 

Chr.  And  how  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hofie  I  thought  I  must  endeavor  to  mend  ray  life  ; 
for  else  thought  I,  I  am  sure  to  be  dunned. 

Chr.  And  did  yon  endeavor  to  amend  I 

Hofie.  Yes  ;  and  fled  from,  not  only  my  sins,  but  sin- 
ful <  ompany  too,  and  betook  me  to  religious  duties,  as 
praying,  reading,  weeding  for  sin,  speaking  truth  to  my 
neighbors,  &c.  These  things  did  I,  with  many  others, 
too  much  here  to  rel  te. 

Chr.  A-d  did  you  think  yourself  well  then  ? 

Hofie.  Yts  :  for  a  while  ;  but  at  the  last  my  trouble 
came  tumbling  upon  me  again,  and  that  over  the  neck 
of  all  my  reformation. 

Chr.  How  came  that  about,  since  you  were  now  re- 
formed ? 

Hofie.  There  were  several  things  brought  it  upon  me ; 
especially  such  sayings  as  these — "  Ail  our  righteous- 
ness arc  as  filthy  rags  :" — "  By  the  works  of  the  law  no 
man  shall  be  justified  :" — "  When  ye  have  done  all 
these  things,  say,  We  are  unprofitable  :"*  with  many 
more  such  like.  Fiom  whence  1  began  to  reason  with 
myself  thus  : — if  all  my  righteousness  arc  filthy  rags; 
if  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  can  be  justified  ;  and 
if,  when  we  have  done  all,  we  are  unprofitable — then  it 
is  but  a  Colly  to  think  of  heaven  by  the  law-  I  further 
thought  thus — if  a  man  runs  a  hundred  pounds  into  the 
shop-keeper's  debt,  and  after  that  shall  pay  for  all  that 
he  shall  fetch — yet,  if  this  ol !  debt  stands  still  in  the 
book  uncrossed,  for  that  the  shop  keeper  may  sue  him, 
and  <  ast  him  into  prison  until  he  shall  pay  the  debt. 

Chr.  Well,  and  how  did  you  apply  this  to  yourself? 

Hofie.  Why,  I  thought  t -us  with  mys  If,  I  have  by 
my  sins  ran  a  great  war  into  God's  book,  and  'hat  7iiV 
now  reforming  will  not  p.;y  off  that  score  ;  therefore  I 
should  think  still,  under  all  my  present  amendments 

*  Isaiah  \xW.  6.     LuVe  ivii.  10.     Gal.  ii.  1&. 


155 

-  But  bow  shall  I  be  freed  from  that  damnation  that  I 
brought  myself  in  danger  of  by  my  former  transgres- 
sions .'' 

Chr.  A  very  good  application  : — but  pray  go  on. 

Jlo/te  Another  thing  that  hath  troubled  me,  even 
since  my  late  amendments,  is,  that,  if  I  look  narrowly 
into  the  best  of  what  1  do  now,  1  still  see  sin,  new  sin. 
niixing  itself  with  the  best  of  that  I  do  :  so  that  now  1 
am  forced  to  conclude  that,  notwithstanding  my  former 
ibnd  conceits  of  mvoeif  and  duties,  i  have  committed 
sin  enough  in  one  day  to  send  me  to  hell,  though  my 
former  life  had  been  faultless 

Chr.  And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

Nope.  Do  !  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  till  I  broke 
my  mind  to  Faithful ;  for  he  and  1  wee  well  acquaint- 
ed ;  and  he  told  me,  that  unless  I  could  obtain  the  right- 
eousness of  a  man  that  never  had  sinned,  neither  my 
own,  nor  all  the  righteousness  of  the  world,  could  save 
me. 

Chr.  And  did  vow  think  he  spake  true  ? 

llofie.  Had  he  told  me  so,  when  I  was  pleased  and 
satisfied  with  mine  own  amendment,  I  had  called  him 
fool  for  his  pains  ;  but  now,  since  I  see  mine  own  infir- 
mity, and  the  sin  which  cleaves  to  my  best  performance, 
I  have  been  forced  of  his  opinion. 

Chr.  But  did  you  think,  when  at  first  he  suggested  it 
to  you,  tiiat  there  was  such  a  man  to  be  found,  of  whom 
it  night  justly  be  said,  that  he  never  committed  sin  ? 

llofie.  I  must  confess  the  words  at  first  sounded 
strangely  ;  but,  after  a  little  more  talk  and  company 
with  him,  I  had  full  conviction  about  it. 

Chr.  And  did  you  ask  him  what  man  this  was,  and 
how  you  must  be  justified  by  him  1* 

Hofie.  Yes,  and  he  told  rue  it  was  the  Lord  Jesus,  that 
dwelleth  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High  :  And 
thus,  said  he,  you  must  be  justified  by  him — even  by 
trusting  to  what  he  hath  done  by  himself  in  the  days,  of 
his  Mesh,  and  suffered  when  he  did  h?ng  on  the  tree. 
I  ask«d  hinv  fu  ther,  how  the  man's  righteousness 
could  be  of  that  <  fificacy  to  justify  another  before  God  ? 
And  he  toW   me,  He  was  the  Mighty  -God,  and  did 

*  Rom.  iv.    Col.  i.     Heb.  x.    2  Pet.  i. 


156  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

what  he  did,  and  died  the  death  also,  not  for  himself, 
but  for  me,  to  whom  his  doings,  and  the  worthiness  of 
i hem  should  be  imputed,  if  I  believed  on  him. 

Chr.  And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  I  made  my  objections  against  my  believing- 
for  that  I  thought  he  wasnot  willing  to  save  me. 

Chr.  And  what  said  Faithful  to  you  then  ? 

Hope.  He  bid  me  go  to  him  and  see.  Then  I  said 
it  was  presumption.  He  said,  No,  for  I  was  invited  to 
come.*— Then  he  gave  me  a  book,  of  Jesus's  inditing, 
to  encourage  me  the  more  freely  to  come  :  and  he  said, 
concerning  that  book,  that  every  jot  and  tittle  thereof 
stood  firmer  than  heaven  and  earth.f  Then  I  asked 
him  what  1  must  do  when  I  came  ?  And  he  told  me,  I 
must  entreat  upon  my  knees, J  and  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul,  the  Father  to  reveal  him  to  me.  Then  I  ask- 
ed him  further,  how  1  must  make  my  supplication  to 
him  ?  And  he  said,  Go,  and  thou  shalt  find  him  upon  a 
mercy  seat,§  where  he  sits,  all  the  year  long,  to  give 
pardon  and  forgiveness  to  them  that  come.  I  told  him 
that  I  knew  not  what  to  say  when  I  came.  And  he  bid 
me  say  to  this  effect — **  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
ner," and '  make  me  to  know  and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ : 
for  I  see,  that  if  his  righteousness  has  no*,  been,  or  I 
have  not  faith  in  his  righteousness,  I  am  utterly  cast  a- 
way.  Lord  I  have  heard  that  thou  art  a  merciful  God, 
and  hast  ordained  that  thy  Son  Jesus  Clirist  should  be 
the  Saviour  of  the  world  :  and,  moreover,  that  thou  art 
willing  to  bestow  him  upon  such  a  poor  sinner  as  I  am 
(and  1  am  a  sinner  indeed)  Lord,  take  therefore  this  op- 
portunity, and  magnify  thy  grace  in  the  salvation  of  my 
soul  through  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ,  Amen.' 

Chr   And  did  you  do  as  you  were  bidden  \ 

Hofie.  Yes,  over,  and  over,  and  over. 

Chr.  A  «id  did  the  Father  reveal  the  Son  to  you  ? 

Hope.  Not  at  first,  nor  second,  nor  third,  nor  fourth? 
no»*  fifth,  no  nor  at  the  sixth  time  neither. 
What  did  you  then  ? 

Hope.  What!  why  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do. 

*  Matt,  xiv    28.  f  Matt.  xxiv.  35.  %  Pwtl.  xiv.  6 

Jer.  x\ix.  12,  13,  Dan.  vi.  10.  $Exod.  xiv.  22. 

f;ev.  xvi,  2.    Heb.  iv.  16. 


the  pilgrim's  progress*  157 

.  Had  you  no  thoughts  of  leaving  oft'  praying  ? 
Hope.  Yes,  and  a  hundred  times  twice  told. 
Chr.  And  what  was  the  reason  you  did  not  ? 
Hope,  i  believe  that  that  was  true  which  hath  been 
told  me,  to  wit,  that  without  the  righteousness  of  this 
Christ,  all  the  world  could  not  save  me  :  and  therefore 
thought  I  with  myself,  if  I  leave  off  I  die,  and  I  can  but 
die  at  the  throne  of  grace.     And  withal  this  came  into 
my  mind,  '■  If  it  tarry,  wait  for  it ;  because  it  will  sure- 
ly come,  and  will  not  tarry."*     So  I  continued,  Until  the 
Father  showed  me  his  Son. 

Chr.  And  how  was  he  revealed  unto  you  ? 
Ilofie.  I  did  not  see  him  with  my  bodily  eyes,  but 
with  the  eyes  of  my  understanding,!  and  thus  it  was: 
—one  day  I  was  very  sad,  I  think  sadder  than  at  any 
one  time  of  my  life ;  and  this  sadness  was  through  a 
fresh  sight  of  the  greatness  and  vileness  of  my  sins. 
And  as  1  was  then  looking  for  nothing  but  hell,  and  the 
everlasting  damnation  of  my  *oul,  suddenly,  as  I  thought, 
I  saw  the  Lord  Jesus  look  down  from  heaven  upon  me, 
,and  saying,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Chris*,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved.":} 

But  I  replied,  *  Lord,  I  am  a  great,  a  very  great  sin- 
ner :  and  he  answered,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee."  Then  I  said,  '  But,  Lord,  what  is  believing  V 
And  then  I  saw  from  that  saying,  "  He  that  cometh  to 
me  shall  never  hunger,  and  he  that  believeth  on  me 
shall  never  thirst,"}  that  believing  and  coming  was  all 
one  ;  and  that  he  that  came,  that  is,  ran  out  in  his  heart 
and  affection  after  salvation  by  Christ,  he  indeed  believ- 
ed in  Christ.  Then  the  water  stood  in  mine  eyes,  and 
I  asked  further,  *  But,  Lord,  may  such  a  great  sinner 
as  I  am,  be  indeed  accepted  of  thee,  and  be  saved  by 
thee  V  And  I  heard  him  say,  u  And  kim  that  cometh  to 
me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."||  Then  I  said,  But  how 
Lord,  must  I  consider  of  thee  in  my  coming  to  thee, 
that  my  faith  may  be  placed  aright  upon  tiiee  V  Then 
he  said,  *'  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners  :" 
"  he  is  the  end  of  the.  law  of  righteousness  to  every  «ne 
that  believes ;"    "  h    died  for  our  sins,  and  rose  again 

*  Hab  ii.  3.         t  Eph.  i,  18, 19.  \  Acts  xvi.  30,  31. 

i  John  vL  35.    |I  John  *l  37. 
O 


158  THE    PILGHUvT»   PRO6RK8S. 

for  our  justification ;"  "he  loved  us,  and  washed  uj 
from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood  ;'*  "  lie  is  Mediator  be- 
twixt God  and  us  t"  u  he  ever  liveth  to  make  in- 
tercession for  us."*  From  all  which  1  gathered,  that 
I  must  look  for  righteousness  in  his  person,  and  lor  sat- 
isfaction for  my  sins  by  his  blood  ;  that  which  he  did  in 
obedience  to  his  Father's  law,  and  in  submitting  to  the 
penalty  thereof,  was  not  for  himself,  but  for  him  that 
will  accept  it  for  his  salvation,  and  be  thankful.  Aad 
now  was  my  Heart  full  of  joy,  mine  eyes  full  of  tears, 
and  mine  affections  running  over  with  love  to  the  name, 
people,  and  ways  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Chr.  This  was  a  revelation  of  Christ  to  your  soul  in- 
deed :  but  tell  me  particularly  what  effect  this  had  up- 
on your  spirit. 

Hofie.  It  made  me  see  that  all  the  world,  notwithstan- 
ding all  the  righteousness  thereof,  is  in  a  state  of  con- 
demnation :  it  made  me  see  that  God  the  Father  though 
lie  be  just,  can  justly  justify  the  coming  sinner  :  it  made 
me  greatly  ashamed  of  the  vileness  of  my  former  life, 
and  confounded  me  with  the  sense  of  mine  own  ignor- 
ance ;  for  there  never  came  a  thought  into  my  heart,  be- 
fore now,  that  showed  me  so  the  beauty  of  Jesus  Christ  -t 
it  made  me  love  a  holy  life,  and  long  to  do  something 
for  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  Lord  Jesus ;  yea,  I 
thought  that,  had  I  now  a  thousand  gallons  of  blood  in 
my  body,  I  could  spill  it  all  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord 
Jesus. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  Hopeful  looked  back 
and  saw  Ignorance,  whom  they  left  behind,  coming  af- 
ter :  Look,  said  he,  to  Christian,  how  far  yonder  youbg- 
ster  loitereth  behind. 

Chr.  Ay,  ay,  I  see  him  :  he  eareth  not  for  our  com- 
pany. 

Hofie.  But  I  trow  it  would  not  have  hurt  him,  had  he 
kept  pace  with  us  hitherto. 

Chr.  That  is  true  ;  but  I'll  warrant  you  he  thinketL 
otherwise. 

Hofie.  That  I  think  he  doth  :  but,  however,  let  its 
terry  for  him.    So  they  did. 

*  1  Thu.  i.  15.    Rons.  x.  4.    Hefe.  vii.  23,  3* 


THE    PILGRIM^    PROGRESS.  1u# 

Then  Christian  said  to  him,  come  away,  man ;  why 
do  you  stay  so  behind  ? 

Ignor.  I  take  my  pleasure  in  walking  alone ;  even  more 
a  great  deal  than  in  company,  unless  I  like  it  better. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,Vbut  softly)  Did  not  I 
tell  you  he  carednot  for  your  company  ?  But,  however, 
said  he,  come  up,  and  let  us  talk  away  the  time  in  this 
solitary  place.  Then  directing  his  speech  to  Ignorance, 
he  said,  Come,  how  do  you  ?  how  stands  it  between 
God  and  your  soul  now. 

Ignor.  I  hope  well ;  for  I  am  always  full  of  good  mo- 
tions, that  come  into  my  mind  to  comiort  me  as  I  walk. 

Chr.  What  good  motions  ?  pray  tell  us. 

Ignor.  Why,  I  think  of  God  and,  heaven. 

Chr.  So  do  the  devils  and  damned.souls. 

Ignor.  But  I  think  of  them  and  desire  them. 

Chr.  So  do  many  that  are  never  like  to  come  thert. 
"  The  soul  of  the  sluggard  desires,  and  hath  nothing."* 

Ignor.  But  I  think  of  them,  and  leave  all  for  them. 

Chr.  That  I  doubt:  for  leaving  off  all  is  a  hard  mat* 
ter ;  yea,  a  harder  matter  than  many  are  aware  oi.  But 
why,  or  by  what,  art  thou  persuaded  that  thou  hast  left 
all  for  God  and  heaven  ? 

Ignor.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  The  wise  man  says  "  He  that  trusts  his  owji 
heart  is  a  fool/'f 

Ignor.  This  is  spoken  of  an  evil  heart :  but  mine  is 
a  good  one. 

Chr.  Buthow  dost  thou  prove  that  ? 

Ignor.  It  comforts  me  in  hopes  of  heaven, 

Chr.  That  may  be  through  its  deceitfulness  ;  for  a 
man's  heart  may  minister  comfort  to  him  in  the  hopes 
of  that  thing  for  which  he  has  yet  no  ground  to  hope. 

Ignor.  But  my  heart  and  life  agree  together  ;  and 
therefore  my  hope  is  well  grounded. 

Chr.  Who  told  thee  that  thy  heart  and  life  agree  to- 
gether ? 

Ignor.  My  heart  tells  me. 

Chr.  'Mk  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief  Thy  heart  tells 
thee  so  \  Except  the  woid  of  God  beareth  witness  in 
this  matter,  other  testimony  is  of  no  value. 

'  Proy.  i$>,  4.  |  Prov.  ixviii.  J26 


Ignor.  But  is  it  not  a  good  heart  that  has  good 
thoughts,  and  is  not  that  a  good  life  that  is  according  to 
God's  commandments  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  a  good  heart  that  has  good  thoughts, 
and  that  is  a  good  \l%  that  is  according  to  God's  com- 
mandments ;  but  it  is  one  thing  indeed  to  have  these, 
and  another  thing  only  to  think  so. 

Ignor.  Pray,  what  count  you  good  thoughts,  and  a 
Kfe  according  to  God's  commandments  ? 

Chr.  -There  are  good  thoughts  of  divers  kinds  ; — 
some  respecting  ourselves,  some — God,  some, — Christ, 
and  some — other  things. 

Ignor.  What  be  »;ood  thoughts  respecting  ourselves  ? 

Chr.  Such  as  agree  with  the  word  of  God. 

Ignor.  When yWi  our  thoughts  of  ourselves  agree 
with  the  word  of  God  ? 

Chr.  When  we  pass  the  same  judgment  upon  our- 
selves, which  the  world  passes. — To  explain  myself : 
the  word  of  God  saith  of  persons  in  a  natural  condition, 
;(  There  is  none  righteous,  there  is  none  that  doeth 
good."  It  saith  also,  that  "  every  imagination  of  the 
"heart  of  a  man  is  only  evil,  and  that  continually."*  And 
again,  u  The  imagination  of  man's  heart  is  evil  from  his 
youth."  Now  then,  when  we  think  thus  of  ourselves, 
having  sense  thereof,  then  are  our  thoughts  good  ones., 
b'0tause  according  to  the  word  of  God. 

Ignor.  1  will  never  believe  that  my  heart  is  thus  bad. 

Chr.  Therefore  you  never  hadst  one  good  thought 
concerning  thyself  in  thy  life. — But  let  me  go  on.  As 
the  word  passeth  a  judgment  upon  our  heart,  so  it  pas- 
seth  a  judgment  upon  our  ways  ;  and  whe  n  the  thoughts 
of  our  hearts  and  ways  agree  with  the  judgment  which 
the  word  giveth  of  both,  then  are  both  good,  because 
'  agreeing  thereto. 

Ignor.  Make  out  your  meaning. 

Chr.  Why  the  word  of  God  saith,  that  man's  ways 
are  crooked  ways,  not  good,  but  perverse :  it  saith, 
they  are  naturally  out  of  the  good  way,  that  they  have 
not  known  it.f  Now  when  a  man  thus  thinketh  of  his 
ways  ;  I  say,  when  he  doth  sensibly,  with  heart  humil- 
iation, thus  think,  then  hath  he  good  thoughts  of  his  own 

S  Gen.  vi.  5.    Rom.  iii.         f  Psa!.  vxxr.  5.    Prov.  ii.  15. 


THE   PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  16.1 

ways,  because  his  thoughts  now  agree  with  the  judg- 
ment of  the  word  of  God. 

Ignor.  What  are  good  thoughts  concerning  God  ? 
Chr.  Even,  as  I  have  said  concerning  ourselves,  when 
our  thoughts  of  God  do  agree  with  what  the  word  saith 
of  him  j  and  that  is,  when  we  think  of  his  being  and 
attributes  as  the  word  hath  taught ;  of  which  I  cannot 
discourse  at  large.  But  to  speak  of  him  in  reference 
to  us ;  then  we  have  right  thoughts  of  God,  when  we 
think  that  he  knows  us  better  than  we  know  ourselves, 
and  can  see  sin  in  us,  when  and  where  we  can  see  none 
in  ourselves  :  when  we  think  he  knows  our  inmost 
thoughts,  and  that  our  heart,  with  all  its  depths,  is  always 
open  unto  his  eyes :  also  when  we  think  that  aH  our 
righteousness  stinks  in  his  nostrils,  and  that  therefore 
he  cannot  abide  to  see  us  stand  before  him  in  any  confi- 
dence, even  in  all  our  best  performances. 

Ignor.  Do  you  think  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  think  God 
can  see  no  further  than  I  ?  or  that  I  would  come  to  God 
in  the  best  of  my  performances  ? 

Chr.  Why,  how  dost  thou  think  in  this  matter  ? 
Ignor.  Why,  to  be  short,  I  think  I  must  believe  in 
Christ  for  justification. 

Chr.  How  ?  think  thou  must  believe  in  Christ,  when 
thou  seest  not  thy  need  of  him  !  Thou  neither  seest  thy 
original  nor  actual  infirmities  ;  but  hast  such  an  opin- 
ion of  thyself,  and  of  what  thou  doest,  as  plainly  renders 
thee  to  be  one  that  did  never  see  a  necessity  of  Christ's 
personal  righteousness  to  justify  thee  before  God.  How 
then  dost  thou  say,  I  believe  in  Christ  ? 
Ignor.  I  believe  well  enough  for  all  that. 
Chr.  How  dost  thou  believe  ? 

Ignor.  I  believe  that  Christ  died  for  sinners  ;  and  that 
I  shall  be  justified  before  God  from  the  curse,  through> 
his  gracious  acceptance  of  my  obedience  to  his  laws. 
Or  thus,  Christ  makes  my  duties,  that  are  religious, 
acceptable  to  his  Father  by  virtue  of  his  merits,  and  so 
shall  1  be  justified. 

Chr.  Let  us  g*ve  an  answer  to  this  confession  of  thy 
faith.  * 

1.  Thou  believest  with  a  fantastical  faith  j  for  thj^ 
faith  is  no  where  described  in  the  word. 

O  2 


3*8  THE    PILGRIM'S    PiiOGKESS. 

2.  Tbou  believest  with  a  false  faith ;  because  then; 
feikest  justification /rem  the  personal  righteousness  of 
Christ,  aod  applies  it  to  thy  own. 

$.  This  maketh  not  Christ  a  justifier  of  thy  person, 
but  of  thy  actions  ;  and  of  thy  person  for  tby  actions' 
sake,  which  is  false. 

4.  Therefore  this  faith  is  deceitful,  even  such  as  will 
leave  thee  under  wrath  in  thr,  day  of  God  Almighty  - 
for  true  justifying  faith  puts  the  soul,  as  sensible  of  its 
lost  condition  by  the  law,  upon  fleeing  for  refuge  unto 
Christ's  righteousness  :  (which  righteousness  of  his  is 
not  an  act  of  grace,  by  which  he  maketh  for  justification, 
thy  obedience  accepted  of  God,  but  his  personal  obedi- 
ence to  the  law,  in  doing  and  suffering  for  us  what  that 
required  at  our  hands:)  this  righteousness,  I  say,  true 
feith  accepteth  ;  under  the  skirt  of  which  the  soul  be- 
ing shrouded,  and  by  it  presented  as  spotless  before 
God,  it  is  accepted,  and  acquits  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  What  !  would  you  have  us  trust  to  what 
Christ  in  his  own  person  hath  done  without  us  ?  This 
conceit  would  loosen  the  reins  of  our  lust,  and  tolerate 
"Us  to  live  as  we  list :  for  what  matter  how  we  live,  if 
we  may  be  justified  by  Christ's  personal  righteousness 
from  all,  when  we  beheve  it  ? 

Chr.  Ignorance  is  thy  name  ;  and  as  thy  name  is,  so 
art  thou  ;  even  this  thy  answer  demonstrated  what  I 
say.  Ignorant  thou  art  of  what  justifying  righteousness 
is,  and  as  ignorant  how  to  secure  thy  soul,  through  the 
iaith  of  it,  from  the  heavy  wrath  of  God.  Yea,  thou 
also  art  ignorant  of  the  true  effect  of  caving  faith  in  his 
righteousness  of  Christ,  which  is  to  bow  and  win  over 
the  heart  to  God  in  Christ,  to  love  his  name,  his  word, 
ways,  and  people,  and  not  as  thou  ignorantly  imagifiest. 

Hofie.  Ask  him  if  ever  he  had  Christ  revealed  to 
him  from  heaven  ? 

Jgrwr.  What !  you  are  a  man  for  revelations  !  I  dc 
believe  that  what  both  you  ancj  all  the  rest  of  you  say 
about  that  matter,  is  but  the  fruit  of  distracted  brains. 

Hope.  Why,  man  t  C  hrist  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the 
natural  apprehensions  of  the  flesh,  that  he  cannot  by  a- 
uy  man  be  savingly  known,  unlsss  ©od  the  Father  re» 
veals  him  to  then). 


THK    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  1&> 

Ignor.  Th<*t  is  your  faith,  but  not  mine  :  yet  mine,  I 
doubt  not,  is  as  good  as  yours,  though  I  have  not  in  my 
head  so  many  whimsies  as  you, 

Chr.  Give  me  leave  to  put  in  a  word  :  you  ought  r.ofc 
to  speak  so  slightly  of  this  matter  :  for  this  I  boldly  af- 
firm (even  as  my  good  companion  hath  done)  that  no 
man  can  know  Jesus  Christ  but  by  t^c  revelation  of  the 
Father  ;  yea,  and  faith  too,  by  which  the  soul  layeth  hold 
upon  Christ  (if  it  be  right)  must  be  wrought  by  the  ex- 
ceeding greatness  of  his  mighty  power  ;*  the  working 
of  which  faith,  I  perceive,  poor  Ignorance,  thou  art  ig- 
norant of.  Be  awakened  then,  see  thine  own  wretch- 
edness, and  flee  to  the  Lord  Jesus;  and  by  his  righteous- 
ness, which  is  the  righteousness  of  God  (for  he  himself 
is  God)  thou  shalt  be  delivered  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  You  go  so  fast,  I  cannot  keep  pace  with  ycu  j 
do  you  go  on  before  :  I  must  stay  awhile  behind. 

Then  they  said— 

'  Well,  Ignorance,  wilt  thou  yet  foolish  be 
To  slight  good  counsel,  ten  times  given  thee  ? 
And  if  thou  yet  refuse  it,  thou  shalt  know, 
Ere  long,  the  evil  of  thy  doing  so. 
Kemember,  man,  in  time  ;  stop,  do  not  fear ; 
Good  counsel  taken  well  saves  :  therefore  hear  ; 
But  if  thou  yet  shalt  slight  it,  thou  wilt  be 
The  loser,  Jgnorc.nce,  I'll  warrant  thee.' 

Then  Christian  addressed  himself  thus  to  his  fellow  : 

Chr.  Well,  come,  my  good  Hopeful,  I  perceive  that 
thou  and  I  must  walk  by  ourselves  again. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  apace  be- 
fore, and  Ignorance  came  hobbling  after.  Then  said 
Christian  to  his  companion,  it  pities  me  much  for  this 
poor  man  :  It  will  certainly  go  ill  with  him  at  last. 

Hofie.  Alas  !  there  are  abundance  in  our  town  in  this 
condition,  whole  families,  yea,  whole  streets,  and  that  of 
pilgrims  too ;  and  if  there  be  so  many  in  our  parts,  how 
many,  think  you,  must  there  be  in  the  place  where  he 
was  born  ? 

Chr.  Indeed  the  word  saith,  "\He  hath  blinded  their 
eyes,  lest  they  should  see,"  &c» 

*  Matt.  7Bk  27.      1  Cor,  xii.  3,    Epb.  i  18,  Mfc 


164 

But,  now  we  are  by  ourselves,  what  do  you  think  of 
such  men  ?  have  they  at  no  time,  think  you,  convictions 
of  sin,  and  so  consequently  fear  ihat  their  state  is  dan- 
gerous ? 

Hope.  Nay,  do  you  answer  that  question  yourself,  for 
you  are  the  older  man. 

Chr.  Then  I  say,  sometimes  (as  I  think)  they  may  ; 
but  they,  being  naturally  ignorant,  understand  not  that 
such  convictions  tend  to  their  good  ;  and  therefore  they 
do  desperately  seek  to  stifle  them,  and  presumptuously 
continue  to  flatter  themselves  in  the  way  of  their  own 
hearts. 

Hofie.  I  do  believe,  as  you  say,  that  fear  tends  much 
to  men's  good,  and  to  make  them  right  at  their  begin- 
ning to  go  on  pilgrimage. 

Chr.  ^Without  all  doubt  it  doth,  if  it  be  right  :  for  so 
says  the  word,  '*  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning 
of  wisdom."* 

Hofie.  How  will  you  describe  right  fear  ? 
Chr.  True  or  right  fear  is  discovered  by  three  things : 
1.  By  its  rise  :  it  is  caused  by  saving  convictions  for  sin. 
Sr.  It  driveth  the  soul  to  lay  fast  hold  of  Christ  for  salva- 
tion. 3.  It  begetteth  and  continueth  in  the  soul  a  great 
"reverence  of  God,  his  word  and  ways,  keeping  it  tend- 
er, and  making  it  afraid  to  turn  from  them,  to  the  right 
hand  or  to  the  left,  to  any  thing  that  may  dishonor  God, 
break  its  peace,  grieve  the  Spirit,  or  cause  the  enemy 
to  speak  reproachfully. 

Hofic.  Well  said ;  I  believe  you  have  said,  the  truth. 
Are  we  no*  almost  got  past  the  Enchanted  Ground  ? 
Chr.  Why?  art  thou  weary  of  this  discourse  ? 
Hofie.  No  verily,  but  that  I  would  know  where  we  are. 
Chr.  We  have  not  now  above  two  miles  further  to  go 
thereon.      But  let  us  return  to  our  matter.      Now  the 
ignorant  know  not  that  such  convictions,  as  tend  to  put 
them  in  fear,  are  for  their  good,  and  therefore  they  seek 
to  stifle  them. 

Hofie.  How  do  they  seek  to  stifle  them  ? 
Chr.  1.  They  think  that  those  fears  are  wrought  by 
the  devil  (though  indeed  they  are  wrought  by  God ;) 
and,  thinking  so,  they  resist  them,  as  things  that  direct- 

*JobMTiii.  28.      Vs,  cxi.  10.      Prov.  i.  7.  it.  10. 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  165 

ly  tend  to  their  overthrow.  2.  They  also  think  that 
these  fears  tend  to  the  spoiling  of  their  faith  ;  when,  a- 
las  for  them,  poor  men  that  they  a:e,  they  have  none  at 
all!  aod  therefore  they  harden  their  hearts  against 
them.  3.  They  presume  they  ought  not  to  fear,  and 
therefore  in  despite  of  them  wax  presumptuously  confi- 
dent. 4.  They  see  that  those  fears  tend  to  take  away 
from  them  their  pitiful  old  self- holiness,  and  therefore 
they  resist  them  with  all  their  might. 

Hufie.  I  know  something  of  this  myself:  before  I  kfccfr 
myseU  it  was  so  with  me. 

Chr.  Well,  we  will  leave,  at  this  time,  our  neighbor 
Ignorance  by  himself,  and  fall  upon  another  profitable 
question. 

Nvfie.  With  all  my  heart ;  but  you  shall  still  begin. 

Chr.  Well  then,  did  you  know,  about  ten  years  ago, 
one  Temporary  in  your  parts,  who  was  a  forward  man 
in  religion  then  ? 

Hofie .  Know  him  !  yes ;  he  dwelt  in  Graceless,  a 
town  about  two  miles  off  Honesty,  and  he  dwelt  next 
door  to  one  Turnback. 

Chr.  Right  j  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  him. 
Well,  that  man  was  much  awakened  once  ;  1  believe 
that  then  he  had  some  sight  of  his  sins,  and  of  his  wa- 
ges that  were  dwe  thereto. 

Hofie.  I  am  of  your  mind,  for  (my  house  not  being  a- 
bove  three  miles  from  him)  he  would  oft-times  come  lo 
me,  and  that  with  many  tears.  Truly  I  pitied  the  rcan, 
and  was  not  altogether  without  hope  of  him  :  but  one 
may  see,  it  is  not  every  one  that  cries  Lord,  Lord. 

Chr.  He  fold  me  once  that  he  was  resolved  to  go  on 
pilgrimage,  as  we  go  now  ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  he  grew 
acquainted  with  one  Saveself,  and  then  he  became  a 
stranger  tome. 

Hofie.  Now,  since  we  are  talking  about  him,  let  us  a 
Tittle  inquire  into  the  reason  of  the  sudden  backsliding  of 
iiim  and  such  others. 

Chr.  It  may  be  very  profitable  ;  but  do  you  begin. 

Hofie.  Well  then,  there  are  in  my  judgment  four  rea- 
sons for  it. 

1.  Though,  the  consciences  of  such  men  are  awaken- 
ed, yet  their  minds  are  not  changed  :  therefore  wher     i 


166* 


power  of  guilt  wearetb  away,  that  which  piovckcihthetw 
to  be  religious  ceaseth  ;  wherefore  they  natuially  re- 
turn to  their  old  course  again;  even  as  we  see  the  dog 
that  is  sick  of  what  he  has  eaten,  sg  long  as  his  sickness 
prevails  he  vomits  and  casts  up  all :  notthat  he  doth  this 
of  free  mind^if  we  may  say  a  dog  has  a  mind)  but  because 
it  troubleth  his  stomach  :  but  t^cw,  when  his  sickness  is 
over,  and  so  his  stomach  cased,  his  desires  being  not  at 
all  alienated  from  his  vomit,  he  turns  him  about  and  licks 
up  all;  and  so  it  is  true  which  is  written,  "  The  dog  is 
turned  to  Ins  vomit  again."*  Thus,  I  say,  being  hot  for 
heaven,  by  virtue  only  cf  the  sense  and, tear  of  the  tor- 
ments of  he!i,  ast*»eir  sense  of  hell  and  fear  of  damna- 
tion chills  and  cools,  so  their  desiie  for  heaven  and  sal- 
vation cool  also.  So  then  it  comes  to  pass  that,  when 
their  guilt  and  fear  is  gone,  their  desires  for  heaven  and 
happiness  die,  and  they  return  to  their  course  again. 

■2.  Another  reason  is,  they  have  slavish  fears  that  do 
overmaster  them  :— I  speak  now  of  the  fears  that  they 
have  of  men  :  "  for  fear  of  man  bringeth  a  snare. "f  So 
then,  though  they  seem  to  be  hot  for  heaven  so  long  as 
the  flames  of  hell  arc  about  their  ears,  yet  when  that  ter- 
ror is  a  little  over,  they  betake  themselves  to  second 
thoughts,  namely,  that  it  is  good  to  be  wise,  and  not  to  run 
(for  they  know  not  what)  the  hazard  of  losing  all,  or  at 
least  of  bringing  themselves  into  unavoidable  and  unne- 
cessary troubles ;  and  sothey  fall  in  with  the  world  sgain. 

3.  The  shame  that  attends  religion  lies  also  as  a  block 
in  their  way  :  they  are  proud  and  haughty,  and  religion 
in  their  eye  is  low  and  contemptible  :  therefore  when 
they  have  lost  their  sense   of  hell  ard  wrath  to  come; 


'&' 


<i.  Guilt,  and  to  meditate  terror,  are  grievous  to  them ; 
they  like  not  to  see  their  misery  before  they  come  into 
it ;  though  perhaps  the  sight  of  it  first,  if  they  loved 
ihat  sight,  might  make  them  flee  whither  the  righteous 
flee  and  are  safe  ;  but  because  they  do  as  I  hinted  be- 
fore, even  shun  the  thoughts  of  guilt  and  terror,  there - 
ib;c,  when  once,  they  are  rid  of  their  awakening  about 
the  terrors  and  wrath  of  God;  they  harden  their  hearts 
gladly,  and  choosp  such  ways  a§  will  harden  them  mort. 
and  more. 

*  2  Pet.  ii.  22.  f  Prov.  jxi^  25. 


XHE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

167 

C'/jr.  You  arc  pretty  near  the  business :  for  the  bottom 
of  a.i  is  for  want  of  a  change  in  their  mind  and  will.  And 
therefore  they  are  but  like  the  felon  that  standeih  before 
the  judge ;  he  quakes  and  trembles,  and  seems  to  repent 
inost  heartily :  but  the  bottom  of  all  is  the  fear  of  the 
halter;  not  that  he  hath  any  detestation  of  the  offences; 
and  it  is  evident,  because,  let  but  this  man  nave  his  lib- 
erty, and  he  will  be  a  thief,  and  so  a  rogue  still,  where- 
as, if  his  mind  was  chaug<  would  be  otherwise. 

Hope.  Now  I  have  showed  you  the  reason  of  their 
going  back,  do  you  show  me  the  manner  thereof. 
°  Chr.  Sol  will  willingly.— They  draw  off  their  thoughts, 
all  that  they  may,  from  the  remembrance  of  God,  death, 
and  judgment  to  come  : — then  they  cast  off  by  degrees 
private  duties  and  closet-prayer,  curbing  their  lusts, 
watching,  sorrow  for  sin,  &c. :  then  they  shun  the  com- 
pany oi  lively  and  warm  Christians  .—after  that  they 
grow  cold  to  public  duty :  as  heating,  reading,  godly 
conference,  and  the  like  ; — then  they  begin  to  pick  holes, 
as  we  say,  in  the  coats  of  some  of  the  godly,  and  that 
devilishly,  that  they  may  have  a  seeming  color  to 
throw  religion  (for  the  sake  of  some  infirmities  they 
have  espied  in  them)  behind  their  backs : — then  they  be- 
gin to  adhere  to,  and  associate  themselves  with,  carnal, 
loose,  and  wanton  men  : — then  they  give  way  to  carnal 
and  wanton  discourses  in  secret ;  and  glad  are  they  if 
they  can  see  such  things  in  any  that  are  counted  honest, 
that  they  may  the  more  boldly  do  it  through  their  ex- 
ample.— Afte?  this,  they  begin  to  play  with  little  sins  o- 
penly  : — and  then,  being  hardened,they  show  themselves 
as  they  are.  Thus,  being  launched  again  into  the  gulf 
of  misery,  unless  a  miracle  of  grace  prevent  it,  they  ev- 
erlastingly perish  in  their  own  deeeivings. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  the  pil- 
grims were  got  over  the  Enchanted  Ground,  and  enter- 
ing into  the  country  of  Beulah,  whose  air  was  very 
sweet  and  pleasant,  the  way  lying  directly  through  it, 
they  solaced  themselves  there  for  a  season.  Yea,  here* 
they  heard  continually  the  singing  of  birds,  and  saw  ev- 
ery day  the  flowers  appear  in  the  earth,  and  heard  the 
voice  of  the  turtle  in  the  land.  In  this  country  the  sun 
sttmeth  night  and  day :  wherefore  this  was  beyond  the 


IliU  THE    PILGRIM^    PROGHK^v 

valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  also  put  of  the  reacfc 
of  Giant  Despair  ;  neither  could  they  from  this  place  sc 
much  as  see  Doubting  Castle.     Here  they  were  within 
sight  of  the   city  they  were  going  to  :  also  here  met 
fhem  some  ofthe  inhabitants  thereoi ;  for  in  this  land  the 
shining  ones  commonly  walked,  because  it  was  upon  the 
borders  of  htaven.  In  this  land  also  the  contract  between 
the  bride  and  the  bridegroom  was  renewed  ;  yea,  here, 
•'  as  the  bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  the  bride,  so  did  their 
God  rejoice  over  them."      Here  they  had  no  want  of 
corn  and  wine ;  for  in  this  place  they  met  abundance  of 
what  they  had  sought  for  in  their  pilgrimage.     Here 
they  heard  voices  from  out  ofthe  city,  loud  voices  say- 
ing, ««  Say  ye  to  the  daughter  of  Zion,  behold  thy  salva- 
tion cometh !  Behold,  his  reward  is  with  him  \n  Here 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  called  them  "  the  holy 
people,  the  redeemed  ofthe  Lord,  Sought  out,'' — &c. 

Nov/,  as  they  walked  in  this  land,  they  had  more  rejoi- 
Ing  than  in  parts  more  remote  from  the  kingdom  to 
.rhich  they  were  bound  ;  and  drawing  near  to  the  city 
;hey  had  yet  a  more  perfect  view  thereof.  It  was  build- 
d  of  pearls  and'precious  stones,  also  the  streets  thereof 
were  paved  with  gold  :  so  that  by  reason  of  the  natural 
glory  of  the  city,  and  the  reflection  of  the  sun-beams 
upon  it,  Christian  with  desire  fell  sick,  Hopeful  also  had 
a  fit  or  two  of  the  same  disease :  wherefore  here  they  lay 
by  it  awhile,  crying  out  because  of  their  pangs,  •'  Jfyou 
see  my  beloved,  tell  him  that  I  am  sick  of  love." 

But  being  a  little  strengthened,  and  better  able  to 
bear  their  sickness,  they  walked  on  their  way  and  came 
yet  nearer  and  nearer,  where  were  orchards,  vineyards 
and  gardens,  and  their  gates  opened  into  the  highway. 
Now,  as  they  came  up  to  these  places,  behold  the  gard- 
ener stood  in  the  way;  to  whom  the  Pilgrims  said, 
*  Whose  goodly  vineyards  and  gardens  are  these  1*  He 
answered, '  they  are  the  King's  and  are  planted  here  for 
his  own  delight,  and  also  for  the  solace  of  pilgrims.' 
Sj  the  gardener  had  them  into  the  vineyards,  and  bid 
them  refresh  themselves  with  the  dainties;  he  also 
shewed  them  there  the  King's  walks  and  arbors  where 
lie  delighted  to  be  :  and  here  they  tarried  and  slept 
Now  i  beheld  in  mjr  dream,  that  they  talked:  more 


THE  -pilgrim's  proghess.  169 

va  their  sleep  at  this  time  than  ever  they  did  in  all  their 
journey  ;  and,  being  in  a  muse  thereabout,  the  gardener 
said  even  to  me,  '  Wherefore  musest  thoi  at  the  mat- 
ter ?  It  is  the  nature  of  the  grapes  of  these  vineyards,' 
'k  to  go  down  so  sweetly  as  to  cause  the  lips  of  them 
that  are  asleep  to  speak." 

So  I  saw  that  when  they  awoke,  they  addressed  them- 
selves to  go  up  to  the  city.  But,  as  I  said,  the  reflec- 
lion  of  the  sun  upon  the  city  (for  the  city  was  pure  gold)* 
vvas  so  extremely  glorious,  that  they  could  not  as  yet 
with  open  face  behold  it,  but  through  an  instrument 
made  lor  that  purpose.  So  I  saw  that  as  they  went  on 
there  met  them  two  men  in  raiment  that  shone  like 
gold,  also  their  faces  shone  as  the  light. 

These  men  asked  the  pilgrims  whence  they  came  ? 
iti  d  they  told  them.  They  also  asked  them  where  they 
had  lodged,  what  difficulties  and  dangers,  what  com- 
forts and  pleasures,  they  had  met  with  in  the.  way  ? 
4  You  have  but  two  difficulties  more  to  meet  with,  and 
then  you  are  in  the  city.' 

Christian  then  and  his  companion  asked  them  to  go 
along  with  them  :  so  they  told  them  they  would  /^But, 
said  they,  you  must  obtain  it  by  your  own  faith  — So  I 
saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  together  till  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  gate. 

Now  I  further  saw,  that  betwixt  them  and  the  gate 
was  a  river  -,  but  there  was  no  bridge  to  go  over  :  the 
river  was  very  deep.  At  the  sight  therefore  of  this  ri- 
ver, the  pilgrims  were  much  stunned  :  but  the  men 
that  went  with  them,  said,  You  must  go  through,  or  you 
cannot  come  at  the*  gate.' 

The  pilgrims  then  began  to  enquire,  if  there  was  no 
other  way  to  the  gate  ?  to  which  they  answered,  *  Yes; 
but  there  hath  not  any,  save  two,  to  wit,  Er.och  and  E- 
lijah,  been  permit'ed  to  tread  that  path,  since  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world,  nor  shall  until  the  last  trumpet  shall 
sound/  The  pilgrims  then  (especially  Christian)  be- 
gan to  despond  in  their  minds,  and  looked  this  way  <md 
that,  but  noway  could  be  found  by  them,  by  wJiich  they 
might  escape  the  fiver.  Then  they  asked  uv  men  <  if 
the  waters  were  all  of  a  depth  V  they  said,  No  :  yet 

*  Deut.  xxiir  24.    Rev.  xxi.  18.    2  Cor.  iii.  18. 
P 


170  THE    PILGRrM's    PROGRESS, 

they  could  not  help  them  in  that  case  ;  « For,'  said  they, 
'  you  shall  find  it  deeper  or  shallower,  as  you  believe  in 
the;  king  of  the  place/ 

They  then  addressed  themselves  to  the  water,  and 
entering,  Christian  began  to  sink,  and  crying  out  to  his 
good  friend  Hopeful,  he  said,  "  I  sink  in  deep  waters  ; 
the  billows  go  over  my  head,  all  his  waves  go  over  me, 
Selah." 

Then  said  the  other, c  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  brother  : 
I  feel  the  bottom,  and  it  is  good.'  Then  said  Chris- 
tian, '  Ah  !  my  friend,  the  sorrow  of  death  hath  compas- 
sed me  about,  I  shall  not  see  the  land  that  flows  with 
milk  and  honey.'  And  with  that  a  great  darkness  and 
horror  fell  upon  Christian,  so  that  he  could  not  see  be- 
fore him.  Also,  he  in  a  great  measu'e  lost  his  senses, 
30  that  he  could  neither  remember,  nor  orderly  talk  ot 
any  of  those  sweet  refreshments  that  he  had  met  with 
In  the  way  of  his  pilgrimage.  But  all  the  words  that  he 
spake,  still  tended  to  discover  that  he  had  horror  of 
mind,  and  heart  fears  that  he  should  die  in  that  river, 
and  never  obtain  entrance  in  at  the  gate.  Here  also,  as 
iliey  that  stood  by  perceived,  he  was  much  in  the  troub- 
lesome thoughts  of  the  sins  that  he  had  committed,  both 
since  and  before  he  began  to  be  a  pilgrim.  It  was  also 
observed,  that  he  was  troubled  with  appaiitions  of  hob- 
goblins and  evil  spirits;  for  ever  and  anon  he  would  in- 
timate so  much  by  words.  Hopeful  therefore  here  had 
much  ado  to  keep  his  brother's  head  above  water,  yea, 
sometimes  he  would  be  quite  gone  down,  and  then,  ere 
a  while,  would  rise  up  again  half  dead.  Hopeful  did 
also  endeavor  to  comfort  him,  saying,  "  Brother,  I  see 
the  gate,  and  men  standing  by  to  receive  us  ;"  but  Chi 
tian  would  answer,  '  It  is  you,  it  is  you  they  wait  for  ; 
you  have  been  Hopeful  ever  since  I  knew  you.'  '  And 
so  have  you,'  said  he  to  Christian.  4  Ah,  brother,'  said 
he,4  surely  if  I  was  right  he  would  now  rise  to  help  me  ; 
but  for  my  sins  he  hath  brought  me  into  the  snare,  and 
hath  left  me.'  Then  said  Hopeful,  *  My  brother,  you 
have  quite  forgot  the  text,  where  it  is  said  of  the  wicked, 
«  There  are  no  bands  in  their  death,  but  their  strength 
is  firm  ;  they  are  not  troubled  as  other  men,  neither  are 
they  piqued  like  other  men."  «  These  trouble*  *oA  dw.- 


171 

wesses  that  you  go  through  in  these  waters,  are  no  sign 
that  God  hath  forsaken  you  ;  but  are  sent  to  try  you, 
whether  you  will  call  to  mind,  that  which  heretofore 
you  have  received  of  his  goodness,  and  live  upon  him 
in  your  distresses.' 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  was  in  a  muse 
^a  while.  To  whom  also  Hopeful  added  these  words, 
**  Be  of  good  cheer,  Jesus  Christ  maketh  thee  whole.'' 
And  with  that  Christian  brake  out  with  a  loud  voice, 
'  Oh,  I  see  him  again  !  and  he  tells  me,  "  When  thou 
pisseth  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee  ;  and 
through  the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee."* — 
Thee  they  both  took  courage,  and  the  enemy  was  after 
that  as  still  as  a  stone,  until  they  were  gone  over. 
Christian  therefore  presently  found  ground  to  stand  up- 
on, and  so  it  followed  that  the  rest  of  the  river  was  but 
shallow  :  but  thus  they  got  over: — Now  upon  the  bank 
of  the  river,  on  the  other  side,  they  saw  the  two  shining 
men  again,  who  there  waited  for  them.  Wheretorc 
being  come  out  of  the  river,  they  saluted  them,  saying, 
We  are  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  to 
those  that  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation."  Thus  they  went 
along  towards  the  gate. — Now  you  must  note,  that  the 
city  stood  upon  a  mighty  hill,  but  the  pilgrims  went  up 
the  hill  with  ease,  because  they  had  these  two  men  to 
lead  them  up  by  tbe  arms  :  also  they  had  left  their  mor- 
tal garments  behind  them  in  the  river  ;  for  though  they 
went  in  with  them,  they  came  out  without  them.  They 
therefore  went  up  here  with  much  agility  and  speed, 
though  the  foundation  upon  which  the  city  was  framed 
was  higher  than  the  clouds  :  they  therefore  went  up 
through  the  region  of  the  air,  sweetly  talking  as  they 
went,  being  comforted,  because  they  safely  got  over  the 
liver,  and  had  such  glorious  companions  to  attend  them. 

The  talk  that  they  had  with  the  shining  ones,  was 
about  the  glory  of  the  place  ;  who  told  them,  that  the 
beauty  and  glory  of  it  was  inexpressible.  There  said 
they  is  "  Mount  Zion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  in- 
numerable company  of  angels,  and  the  spiiits  of  just 
men  made  perfect."!  You  are  going  now,  s  lid  they, 
to  the  Paradise  of  God,  wherein  you  shall  see  the  tree 

*  fca.  zliii.2.  I  Heb.£ii.  22~ 2t 


172  tue  pilgrim's  progress. 

oflifc,  and  eat  of  the  never-fading  fruits  thereof:  and 
when  you  come  there,  you  shall  have  white  robes  given 
you,  and  your  walk  and  talk  shall  be  every  day  with  the 
king,  even  all  the  days  of  eternity.*     There  you  shall 
not  see  again  such  things  as  you  saw  when  you  are  in 
the  lower  region  upon  the  earth,  to  wit,  sorrow,  sickness, 
affliction,  and  death  ;  "  for  the  former  things  are  passed 
away."t      You  are  now  going  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac, 
and  to  Jacob,  and  to  the  prophets,  men  that  God  hath 
taken  aw^y  from  the  evil  to  come,  and  that  are  r, 
*"'  resting   upon   their   beds,   each  one  walking  in  1 
righteousness."     The  men  then  asked,  What  must  we 
do  in  the  holy  place  ?  To  whom  it  was  answered,  You 
must  there  receive  the  comfort;  of  all  your  toil,  and 
have  joy  for  all  your  sorrow  ;  you  must  reap  what  you 
have  sown,  even  the  fruit  of  all  your  prayers,  and  tears, 
and  sufferings  for  the  King  by  the  way 4      In  that  place 
you  must  wear  crowns  of  gold,  and  enjoy  the  perpetual 
sight  and  vision  of  the  Holy  One  ;  for  there  you  shall 
see  him  as  he  is."j       There  also  you  shall  serve  him 
continually  with  praise,  with  shouting  and  thanksgiving, 
5  2U  desired  to  serve  in  the  world  though  with 
much  difficulty,  because  of  the  infirmity  of  your  flesh. 
There  your  eyes  shall  be  delighted  with  seeing,   and 
your  ears  with  hearing,  the  pleasant  voice  of  the  Mighty 
One.      There  you  shall  enjoy  your  friends  again,  that 
are  gone  thither  before  you  ;'  and  there  you  shr  >1  with 
joy  receive,  even  every  one  that  follows  into  the   holy 
places  after  you.     There  also  you  shall  be  clothed  with 
glory  and  majesty,  and  put  into  an  equipage  fit  to  ride 
out  with  the  King  of  Glory.     When  he  shall  come  with 
sound  of  trumpet  in  the  clouds,  as  upon  the  wings  of 
the  wind,  you  shail  come  with  him  ;  and,  when  he  shall 
sit  upon  the  throne  cf  judgment,  you  shall  sit  by  him  : 
yea,  and  when  he  shall  p?ss  sentence  upon  all  the  work- 
ers of  iniquity,  let  them  be  angels  or  men,  you   also 
shall  have  a  voice  in  that  Judgment,  because  they  were 
his  and  your  enemies.      Also  when  he  shall  again  re- 
turn to  the  city,  you  shall  go  too  with  sound  of  trum- 
pet, and  be  ever  with  him-ll 


*  Rev.  ii.  7.  iii.  4.  xxii.  5.     +  Isa.  lxv.  16.     1  Gal.  vi 
tl  John  iit.  2.  ||1   Tbes.  i v.  1.3—17.     Jud<     I 

\ii.9, 1Q.     1  Cor.  vi.  2.3. 


*he  pilgrim's  progress.  173 

Now,  while  they  were  thus  drawing  towards  the  gate, 
behold,  a  company  of  the  heavenly  host  came  out  to 
meet  them  ;  to  whom  it  was  said  by  the  other  two  shi- 
ning ones,  These  are  the  men  that  have  loved  our  Lord, 
when  they  were  in  the  world,  and  that  have  left  all  for 
his  holy  name,  and  he  hath  sent  us  to  fetch  them,  and 
we  have  brought  them  thus  far  on  their  desired  journey, 
that  they  may  go  in  and  look  their  Redeemer  in  the  face 
with  joy.'  Then  the  heavenly  host  gave  a  great  shout, 
saying,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  are  called  to  the  mar- 
riage supper  of  the  Lamb."*  There  came  out  also  at 
this  time  to  meet  them,  several  of  the  king's  trumpet- 
ers, clothed  in  white  and  shining  raiment,  who,  with 
melodious  noises,  and  loud,  made  even  the  heavens  to 
echo  with  their  sound.  These  trumpeters  saluted 
Chri«tian  and  his  fellow,  with  ten  thousand  welcomes 
from  the  world  ;  and  this  they  did  with  shouting,  and 
sound  of  trumpet.    — — » 

This  done,  they  "Compassed  them  round  on  every 
side  :  some  went  before,  some  behind,  and  some  on  the 
right  hand,  some  on  the  left  (as  it  were  to  guard  them 
through  the  upper  region)  continually  sounding  as  they 
went,  with  melodious  noise,  in  notes  on  high  ;  so  that 
the  very  sight  was  to  them  that  could  behold  it,  as  if 
heaven  itself  was  come  down  to  meet  them.  Thus, 
therefore  they  walked  on  together;  and  as  they  walked, 
ever  and  anon  these  trumpeters,  even  with  joyful  sound, 
would  by  mixing  their  music  with  looks  and  gestures, 
still  signify  to  Christian  and  his  brother  how  welcome 
they  were  into  their ^ompany,  and  with  what  gladn«ss 
they  came  to  meet  them.  And  now  were  these  two 
men,  as  it  were,  in  heaven,  before  they  came  at  it,  being 
swallowed  up  with  the  sight  of  angels  and  with  hear- 
ing their  melodious  notes.  Here  also  they  had  the  city 
itself  in  view  ;  and  they  thought  they  heard  all  the  bells 
therein  to  ring,  to  welcome  them  thereto.  But,  above 
all,  the  warm  and  joyful  thoughts  that  they  had  about 
their  own  dwelling  there  with  such  company,  and  that 
for  ever  and  ever ;  Oh!  by  what  tongue  or  pen  can 
their  glorious  joy  be  expressed  ! — Thus  they  came  up 
to  the  gate. 

*  Rev.  xix;  9. 
P  2 


174 

Now,  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  gate,  there  was 
written  over  it,  in  letters  of  gold,  "  Blessed  are  they 
that  do  his  commandments,  that  they  may  have  right 
to  the  tree  of  life,  and  may  enter  in  through  the  gates 
into  the  city."*  Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  shi- 
ning men  bid  them  call  at  the  gate  :  the  which  when 
they  did,  some  from  above  looked  over  the  gale,  viz. 
Enoch,  Moses,  Elias,  See.  to  whom  it  was  said,  *  These 
pilgrims  are  come  from  the  city  of  Destruction,  for  the 
love  that  they  bear  to  the  King  of  this  place  ;'  and  then 
the  pilgrims  gave  in  unto  them  each  man  his  certificate, 
which  they  had  received  in  the  beginning :  those  there- 
fore were  carried  in  unto  the  King,  who,  when  he  htd 
read  them,  said,  ■  Where  are  the  m<*n  ?  To  whom  it 
was  answered,"  *  They  are  standing  without  the  gate.' 
The  King  then  commanded  to  open  the  gate,  *  that  the 
righteous  nation/  said  he,  u  that  keepeth  truth  may 
enter  in."f 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  these  two  men  went  in 
at  the  gate ;  and  lo  !  as  they  entered,  they  were  trans- 
figured :  and  they  had  raiment  put  on  that  shone  like 
%-rld.  There  were  also  that  met  them  with  harps  and 
crowns,  aad  gave  them  to  them  ;  the  harps  to  praise 
withal,  and  the  crowns  in  token  of  honor — Then  I 
heard  in  my  dream,  that  all  the  bells  in  the  city  rang  a- 
gain  for  joy,  and  that  it  w?s  said  unto  them,  "  Enter  ye 
into  the  joy  of  3Tour  Lord."  I  also  heard  the  men  them- 
selves, that  they  sang  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  "  Bles- 
sing, honor,  and  glory,  and  power,  be  to  Him  that  sit- 
teth  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  for  evet  and  ev- 
er.  | 

Now,  justasthe  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the  men, 
I  looked  in  after  them,  and,  behold,  the  city  shone  like 
the  sun  ;  the  streets  also  were  paved  with  gold;  and  in 
them  walked  many  men  with  crowns  on  their  heads, 
palms  in  their  hands;  and  golden  harps,  to  sing  praises 
withal. 

There  were  also  of  them  that  had  wings,  and  they 
answered  one  another  without  intermission,  saying, 
**  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord."     And  after  that  they 

*  Rev.  Mii.  14.         f  hz»  MY!,  2-         t  Rev.  v.  13,  14. 


shut  up  the  gates  :  which,  when  I  had  seen,  I  wished 
myseli among  them. 

Now  while  I  was  gazing  upon  all  these  things,  I 
turned  my  head  to  look  back,  and  saw  Ignorance  come 
up  to  the  river  side  :  but  he  soon  got  over,  and  that 
without  half  that  difficulty  which  the  other  two  men  met 
with.  For  it  happened  that  there  was  then  in  that 
place  one  Vain-hope,  a  ferry-man,  that  with  his  boat 
helped  him  over  :  so  he,  as  the  other  I  saw,  did  ascend 
the  hill,  to  come  up  to  the  gate  ;  only  he  came  alone ; 
neither  did  any  man  meet  him  with  the  least  encourage- 
ment. When  he  was  come  up  to  the  gate,  he  looked 
up  to  the  writing  that  was  above,  and  then  began  to 
ki  ock,  supposing  that  entrance  should  have  been  quick- 
ly administered  to  him  :  but  he  was  asked  by  the  man 
that  looked  over  the  top  cf  the  gate,  '  Whence  come 
you  ?  And  what  would  you  have  V  He  answered,  *  I 
have  eat  and  diunk  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  and  he 
has  taught  in  our  streets.'  Then  they  asked  him  for 
his  certificate,  that  they  might  go  in  and  show  it  to  the 
King  : — So  he  fumbled  in  his  bosom  for  one,  and  found 
none.  Then  said  they,  You  have  none  :  but  the  ma;i 
answered  never  a  word.  So  they  told  the  king,  but  he 
would  not  come  down  to  see  him,  but  commanded  the 
two  shining  ones,  that  conducted  Christian  and  Hopeful 
to  the  city,  to  go  out  and  take  Ignorance,  and  bind  him 
hand  and  foot,  and  have  him  away.  Then  they  took 
him  up,  and  carried  him  through  the  air  to  the  door  that 
I  saw  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there.  Then 
I  saw  that  there  was  a  way  to  hell,  even  from  the  gates 
of  heaven,  as  well  as  from  the  city  of  Destruction.— So 
I  awoke,  and  behold  it  was  a  dream. 


I 


176  tub  pilgrim's  PROGRrsS. 


THE 

CONCLUSION. 

NOW,  Reader,  I  have  told  my  dream  to  thee, 
See  if  thou  canst  interpret  it  to  me, 
Oi  to  thyself,  or  neighbor  ;  but  take  heed 
Of  misinterpreting;  for  that,  instead 
Oi  doing  good,  will  but  thyself  abuse  ; 
By  misinterpreting,  evil  ensues. 
Take  heed  also  that  thou  be  not  extreme 
In  playing  with  the  outside  of  my  dream  : 
Nor  let  my  figure  or  similitude 
Put  thee  into  a  laughter  or  a  feud  : 
Leave  this  for  boys  and  fools  ;  but  as  for  thee, 
Do  thou  the  substance  of  my  matter  see. 
Put  by  the  curtains,  look  within  my  veil, 
Turn  up  my  metaphors,  and  do  not  fail ; 
There  if  thou  seekest  them,  such  things  thou'lt  finti 
As  will  be  helpful  to  an  honest  mind. 
What  of  my  dross,  thou  findest  there,  be  bold 
To  throw  away,  but  yet  preserve  the  gold. 
What  if  my  gold  be  wrapped  up  in  ore  ? 
None  throw  away  the  apple  for  the  core. 
But  if  thou  shalt  cast  all  away  as  vain, 
I  know  not  but  'twill  make  me  dream  again. 


THE  END  OF  THE  FIRST  PART. 


j 

j 


THE 

AUTHOR'S  WAY 

0¥  SENDING    FORTH    HIS 

SECOND  PART 

07    THE 

PILGRIM. 


GO  now,  my  little  book  to  every  place, 
Where  my  first  pilgrim  has  but  shown  his  face  : 
Call  at  the  door  ;  if  any  say,  who's  there  ? 
Then  answer  thou,  Christiana  is  here. 
If  they  bid  thee  come  in,  there  enter  thou, 
With  all  thy  boys  :  and  then  thou  knowest  how  ; 
Tell  who  they  are,  also  from  whence  they  came  : 
Perhaps  they  know  them  by  their  looks  or  name  ; 
But  if  they  should  not,  ask  them  yet  again, 
If  formerly  they  did  not  entertain 
One  Christian,  a  Pilgrim  ?  if  they  say 
They  did,  and  were  delighted  in  Ms  way, 
Then  let  them  know,  that  those  related  were 
Unto  him  ;  yea,  his  wife  and  children  are. 

Tell  them,  that  they  have  left  their  house  and  home. 
Are  turned  Pilgrims  ;  seek  a  world  to  come  : 
That  they  have  met  with  hardships  on  the  way  ; 
And  they  do  meet  with  troubles  night  and  day  : 
That  they  have  trod  on  serpents,  fought  with  devils  ; 
Have  also  overcome  as  many  evils. 
Yea,  tell  them  also  of  the  next  who  have, 
Of  love  to  pilgrimage  been  stout  and  brave 
Defenders  of  that  way  ;  and  how  they  still 
Refuse  this  world  to  do  their  Father's  will. 

Go,  teli  them  also  of  those  dainty  things, 
That  pilgrimage  unto  the  Pilgrims  brings  : 
Let  them  acquainted  be  !oo,  how  they  are 


178  PREFACE. 

Beloved  of  the  King,  under  his  care  ; 

What  goodly  mansions  he  for  them  provides, 

Though  they  meet  with  rough  winds  and  swelling  tit 

Mow  brave  a  Calm  ihe>  will  enjoy  at  last, 

Who  to  the  Lord,  and  to  his  ways  hold  fast 

Perhaps  with  heart  and  hand  they  will  embraee 
Thee,  as  they  did  my  firstling,  and  will  grace 
Thee  as  thy  fellows  with  good  cheer  and  fare, 
As  show  well  they  of  Pilgiims  lovers  are. 

OBJECTION    !. 

•But  how,  if  they  will  not  believe  of  me 
That  1  am  truly  thine  i  'cause  some  there  be 
That  counterfeit  the  Pilgrim  and  his  name, 
Seek,  by  disguise,  to  seem  the  very  same  ; 
Ano,  by  that  means,  have  brought  themselves  intc 
The  hands  and  houses  of  I  know  not  who  ? 

ANSWER. 

'Tis  true  some  have,  of  late,  to  counterfeit 
My  Pilgrim,  to  their  own  my  title  set  ; 
Yea,  others,  half  my  name,  and  title  too, 
Have  stitched  to  their  books  to  make  them  do  ; 
But  yet  they,  by  their  features  do  declare 
Themselves  not  mine  to  be  ;  whose  e'er  they  are. 

If  such  thou  meet'st  with,  then  thine  only  wayj 
Before  them  ail,  is  to  say  out  thy  say, 
In  thine  own  native  language,  which  no  man 
Now  usethj  or  with  ease  dissemble  can. 
If,  after  all,  they  still  of  you  shall  doubt, 
Thinking  that  you  like  gypsies  go  about, 
In  naughty  ways,  the  country  to  defile  ; 
Or  that  you  seek  good  people  to  beguile 
With  things  unwarrantable,— send  for  me, 
And  I  will  testify  you  pilgrims  be  ; 
Yea,  I  will  testify  that  only  you 
My  Pilgrims  are,  and  that  aioi.e  will  do. 

OBJECTION'    n. 

But  yet,  perhaps,  I  may  enquire  for  him, 
Of  those  that  with  him  damned  life  and  limb ; 
What  shall  I  do,  when  I  at  such  a  door 
I- or  Pilgrims  ask,  and  they  shall  rage  the  more  ? 


r»j,AC*  1-9 


ANSW  EF . 

Fright  not  thyself,  my  book  ;  for  such  bugbears 
Are  nothing  else  but  ground  for  groundless  fears. 
My  Pilgrim's  book  has  travelled  sea  and  land, 
Yet  could  i  never  come  to  understand 
That  it  was  slighted  and  turned  out  of  door, 
By  any  kingdom,  were  they  rich  or  poor. 

In  France  and  Flanders,  where  men  kill  each  other, 
My  Pilgrim  is  eslcem'd  a  friend,  a  brother. 

In  Holland  too*  'tis  said,  as  I  am  told, 
My  Pilgrim  is,  with  some,  worth  more  than  gold. 

Highlanders  and  wild  lush  can  agree 
My  Pilgrim  should  familiar  with  them  be. 
'Tis  in  New- England  under  such  advance, 
Receives  there  so  much  loving  countenance, 
As  to  be  trimm'd,  new  cloth'd  and  deck'd  with  gems, 
That  it  may  show  its  features  and  its  limbs. 
Yet  more  ;  so  public  doth  my  Pilgrim  walk, 
That  of  him  thousands  daily  sing  and  talk. 

If  you  draw  nearer  home,  it  will  appear, 
My  pilgrim  knows  no  ground  of  shame  or  fear  : 
City  and  country  both  will  entertain, 
With  welcome,  Pilgrim  ;  yea,  they  can't  refrain 
From  smiling,  if  my  pilgrim  be  but  by, 
Or  shows  bis  head  in  any  company. 

Br?.ve  gallants  do  my  Pilgrim  hug  and  love, 
Esteem  it  much  ;  *yea,  value  it  above 
Things  of  a  greater  bulk  ;  yea,  with  deligut 
Say,  my  lark's  leg  is  better  than  a  kite. 

Young  ladies,  and  young  gentlemen  too, 
Do  no  small  kindness  to  my  Pilgrim  show  : 
Their  cabinets,  their  bosoms,  and  their  hearts, 
My  Pilgrim  has,  'cause  he  to  them  imparts 
His  pretty  riddles,  in  such  wholesome  strains, 
As  yields  them  profit  double  to  their  pains 
Of  reading  ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  be  bold 
To  say,  some  prize  him  far  above  their  gold. 

The  very  children  that  do  walk  the  street^ 
If  thejr  do  but  my  holy  Pilgrim  meet 


PKEFAi  . . 

Salute  him  will ;  will  wish  J»im  well,  and  say, 
He  is  the  only  strippling  of  the  day. 

They  that  have  never  seen  him,  yet  ad;.: 
What  they  have  heard  of  him,  and  much  desire 
To  have  his  company,  and  hear  him  tell 
Those  pilgrim  stories  which  he  knows  so  well. 

Yea,  some  that  did  not  love  him  at  the  first, 
I>ut  call'd  him  fool  and  noddy,  say  they  must, 
Now  they  have  seen  and  heard  him,  him  commend 
And  to  those  whom  they  love,  they  do  him  send. 

Wherefore  my  Second  Part,  thou  need'st  not  be 
Afraid  to  show  thy  head  ;  none  can  hurt  thee, 
That  wish  but  well  to  him  that  went  before  ; 
*Cause  thou  com'st  after  with  a  second  store 
Of  things  as  good,  as  rich,  as  profitable, 
For  young,  for  old,  for  stagg'ring,  and  for  stable. 

objection  in. 
But  some  there  be  that  say,  he  laughs  too  loud; 
And  some  do  say,  his  head  is  in  a  cloud. 
Some  say,  his  words  and  stories  are  so  dark, 
They  know  not  how  by  them  to  find  his  mark. 

ANSWER. 

One  may  (I  think)  say,  both  his  laughs  and  ciies 
May  well  ^guess'd  at  by  his  wat'ry  eyes. 
Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One's  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache  ; 
When  Jacob  saw  his  Rachel  with  the  sheep, 
He  did  at  the  same  time  both  kiss  and  weep. 

Whereas  some  say,  a  cloud  is  in  his  head, 
That  doth  but  show  his  wisdom's  covered 
With  his  own  mantle  ;  and  to  stir  the  mind 
To  search  well  after  what  it  fain  would  find. 
Things  that  seem  to  be  hid  in  words  obscure, 
Do  but  the  godly  mind  the  more  allure, 
To  study  what  those  sayings  should  contain, 
That  speak  to  us  in  such  a  cloudy  strain. 

I  also  know,  a  dark  similitude 
Will  on  the  carious  fancy  more  intrude, 
And  will  stick  faster  in  the  heart  and  head, 
Than  things  from  similies  not  borrowed. 


PREFACE.  191 

Wherefore,  my  book,  let  no  discouragement 
Hinder  thy  travels  :  behold  !  thou  ait  sent 
To  friends,  not  foes  ;  to  friends  that  will  give  place 
To  thee,  thy  Pilgrims,  and  thy  words  embrace. 

Besides,  what  my  first  pilgrim  left  conceal'd, 
Thou,  my  brave  second  Pilgrim !  hast  reveal'd ; 
What  Christian  left  lock'd  up,  and  went  his  way, 
Sweet  Christiana  opens  with  her  key. 

OBJECTION    IV. 

But  some  love  not  the  method  of  your  first : 
Romance  they  count  it,  throw't  away  as  dust. 
If  I  should  meet  with  such,  what  should  I  say  ? 
Must  I  slight  them  as  they  slight  me,  or  nay  ? 

ANSWER. 

My  Christiana,  if  with  such  thou  meet, 
By  all  means,  in  all  loving  wise,  them  greet : 
Render  them  not  reviling  for  revile ; 
But  if  they  frown,  I  pr'ythee  on  them  smile  : 
Perhaps  'tis  nature  or  some  ill  report, 
Has  made  them  thus  despise,  or  thus  retort. 
Some  love  no  fish,  some  love  no  cheese  ;  and  some 
Love  not  their  friends,  nor  their  own  house  or  homp, 
Some  start  at  pig,  slight  chitken,  love  not  fowl, 
More  than  they  love  a  cuckoo  or  an  owl. 
Leave  such  my  Christiana,  to  their  choice, 
And  seek  those,  who  to  find  thee  will  rejoice  : 
By  no  means  strive,  but  in  most  humble  wise, 
Present  thee  to  them  in  thy  Pilgrim's  guise. 

Go  then  my  little  book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain,  and  bid  thee  welcome  shall, 
What  thou  shalt  keep  close  shut  up  from  the  rest : 
And  wish  that  thou  shalt  show  them  may  be  bless'd 
To  them  for  good,  and  make  them  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims  by  better  far  than  thee  and  me. 
Go  then,  I  say,  tell  all  men  who  thou  art ; 
Say,  I  am  Christiana,  and  my  part 
Is  now,  with  my  four  sons,  to  tell  you  what 
It  is  for  men  to  take  a  Pilgrim's  lot. 

Go,  also,  tell  them  who  and  what  they  be 
That  now  do  go  on  pilgrimage  with  thee ; 


132  PREFAO 

Say,  here's  my  neighbor  Mercy  ;  she  is  on* 
That  has  long  time  vvith  me  a  Pilgrim  gone  j 
f^ome>  see  her  in  her  virgin  face,  and  learn 
'Twixtidle  ones  and  Pilgrims  to  discern. 
Yea,  let  young  damsels  learn  of  her  to  prize 
The  world  which  13  to  come,  in  any  wise. 
When  little  tripping  maidens  follow  God, 
And  leave  old  doating  sinners  to  his  rod, 
'lis  like  those  days,  wherein  the  young  ones  cry'd 
Hosanna  1  when  the  old  ones  did  deride. 

Next  tell  them  of  old  Honest,  whom  you  found, 
With  his  white  hairs,  treading  the  Pilgrim's  ground 
Yea,  tell  them  how  plain-hearted  this  man  was  ; 
How  alter  this  good  Lord  he  bare  the  cross. 
Perhaps  with  some  gray  head  this  may  prevail 
With  Christ  to  fall  in  love,  and  sin   bewail. 

Tell  them  also,  how  Mr.  Fearing  went 
On  pilgrimage ;  and  the  time  he  spent 
In  solitariness,  with  fears  and  cries  ; 
And  how  at  last  he  won  the  joyful  prize. 
He  .ras  a  good  man,  though  much  down  in  spirit ; 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  dofti  life  inherit. 
Tell  them  of  Mr.  Feeble-mind  also, 
Who  not  before  but  still  behind  would  go  : 
Show  them  also,  how  he'd  like  t*  have  been  slain, 
And  how  one  Great-heart  did  his  life  regain. 
This  man  was  true  of  heajt,  though  weak  in  gra; 
One  might  true  godliness  read  in  his  face. 

Then  tell  them  of  Mr.  Ready-to-halt, 
A  man  with  crutches,  but  much  without  fault ; 
Tell  them  how  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  he 
Did  love,  and  in  opinion  much  agree  ; 
And  let  all  know,  though  weakness  was  their  cha 
Yet  sometimes  one  would  sing,  the  other  d&nce. 

Forget  not  Mr  Valiant  tor  the  truth, 
That  man  of  courage,  though  a  very  youth 
Tell  every  one  his  spirit  was  so  stout ; 
No  one  could  ever  make  him  face  about ; 
And  how  Great-heart  and  he  could  not  forbear, 
But  put  down  Doubting  Castle  ;  slew  Desp. 


PREFACE.  133 


Overlook  not  Mi\  Despondency 
Nor  Much-afraid,  his  daughter,  though  they  lie 
Under  such  mantles,  as  may  make  them  look 
(With  some)  as  if  their  God  had  them  forsook. 
They  softly  went,  but  sure  ;  and,  at  the  end, 
Found  that  the  Lord  of  Pilgrims  was  their  friend. 

When  thou  hast  told  the  world  of  all  these  things, 
Then  turn  about,  my  book,  and  touch  these  strings; 
Which,  if  but  touched,  will  such  music  make, 
They'll  make  a  cripple  dance,  a  giant  quake. 

Those  riddles  that  lie  couch'd  within  thy  breast, 
Freely  propound,  expound,  and  for  the  rest 
Of  my  mysterious  lines,  let  them  remain, 
For  those  whose  nimble  fancies  shall  them  gain. 

Now  may  this  little  book  a  blessing  be 
To  those  who  love  this  little  book  and  me ; 
And  may  its  buyer  have  no  cause  to  say, 
His  money  is  but  lost,  or  thrown  away. 
Yea,  may  this  second  pilgrim  yield  that  fruit 
As  may  with  each  good  Pilgrim's  fancy  suit, 
And  may  it  some  persuade  that  go  astray, 
To  turn  their  feet  and  heart  to  the  right  way. 

Is  the  hearty  Prayer  of 

The  Author, 

JOHN  BUNYAN. 


THE 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 

PART  II. 

WHEREIN  IS    SET  FORTH 

I.  THB   MANNER    OF   THE   SETTING     OUT     OF    CHRISTIAN'S 
WIFE    AND   CHILDREN. 
II.    THEIR    DANGEROUS   JOURNEY,    AND 
III.   SAFE    ARRIVAL    AT   THE   DESIRED   COUNTRY. 


Courteous  Comfianion, 

SOME  time  since,  to  tell  you  a  dream  that  I  had  of 
Christian  the  pilgrim,  and  of  his  dangerous  journey  to- 
wards the  celestial  country,  was  pleasant  to  me  and  pro- 
fitable to  you.  I  told  you  then  also  what  I  saw  concer- 
ning his  wife  and  children,  and  how  unwilling  they  were 
to  go  with  him  on  pilgrimage :  insomuch  that  he  was  for- 
ced to  go  on  his  progress  without  them  j  for  he  durst 
not  run  the  danger  of  that  destruction,  which  he  feared 
would  come,  by  staying  with  them  in  the  city  of  De- 
struction :  wherefore,  as  I  then  showed  you,  he  left  them, 
and  departed. 

Now  it  hath  so  happened,  through  -the  multiplicity  of 
business,  that  I  have  been  much  hindered  and  kept  back 
from  my  wonted  travels  into  those  parts  where  he  went, 
and  so  could  not,  till  now,  obtain  an  opportunity  to  make 
further  inquiry  after  whom  he  left  behind,  that  I  might 
give  you  an  account  of  them.  But,  having  had  some 
concerns  that  way  of  late,  I  went  down  again  thither- 
ward. Now  having  taken  up  my  lodging  in  a  wood, 
about  a  mile  off  the  place,  as  I  slept,  I  dreamed  again. 

And,  as  I  was  in  my  dream,  behold,  an  aged  gentle- 
man came  by  where  I  lay  ;  and  because  he  was  to  go 
some  part  of  the  way  that  I  was  travelling,  methought  I 
got  up  and  went  with  him.  So,  as  we  walked,  and  as 
travellers  usually  do,  I  was  as  if  we  fell  into  a  discourse, 
and  our  talk  happened  to  be  about  Christhn  and  bb 
travels  :  for  thus  I  began  with  the  old  man : 
Q2 


lo6  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

Sir,  said  J,  What  town  is  that  there  below,  that  lieth 
or  the  left  hand  of  our  way  ? 

Then  said  Mr.  Sagacity  (for  that  was  his  name)  It  is 
the  Cit>  of  Destruction,  a  poptih  us  place,  but  possessed 
with  a  very  ill  conditioned  and  idle  sort  of  people. 

I  thought  that  was  that  city,  quoth  I  ±  I  went  once 
myself  through  that  town  ;  and  therefore  I  know  that 
this  report  you  give  of  it  is  true. 

Sag.  Too  true  !  I  wish  I  could  speak  truth  in  speak- 
ing better  of  them  that  dwell  therein. 

Weil,  Sir,  quoth  I,  then  I  perceive  you  to  be  a  well 
meaning  man,  and  so  one  that  takes  pleasure  to  hear 
and  tell  of  that  which  is  good  ;  pray  did  you  never  hear 
what  happened  to  a  man  some  time  ago  in  this  town 
(whose  name  was  Christian)  that  went  on  a  pilgrimage 
up  towards  the  higher  regions  ? 

Sag.  Hear  of  him  !  Ay,  and  I  also  heard  of  the  mo- 
lestations, troubles,  wars,  captivities,  cries,  groans, 
frights,  and  fears,  that  he  met  with,  and  had  on  his  jour- 
ney. Besides,  I  must  tell  you,  all  our  country  rings  of 
him  ;  there  are  but  few  houses,  that  have  heard  of  him 
and  his  doings,  but  have  sought  alter  and  got  t've  records 
of  his  pilgrimage  ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  say,  that  this  ha- 
zardous journey  has  got  many  well-wishers  to  his  ways  ; 
for  though  when  he  was  here,  he  is  zfool  was  in  every 
man'smouth,yet  now  he  is  gone,he  is  highly  commended 
of  all.  For  it  is  said  he  lives  bravely  where  he  is  :  yea, 
many  of  them  that  are  resolved  never  to  iun  his  haz- 
ards, yet  have  thei.*  mouths  water  at  his  gains. 

They  may,  quoth  I,  well  think,  if  they  think  any  thing 
that  is  true,  that  he  liveth  well  where  he  is ;  for  he  now 
lives  at  and  in  the  fountain  of  life,  and  has  what  he  has 
without  labor  and  sorrow,  for  there  is  no  grief  mixed 
therewith.  But  pray,  what  talk  have  the  people  about 
him. 

Sag.  Talk  !  the  people  t«lk  strangely  about  him  : 
some  say,  that  he  now  walks  in  white  ;*  that  he  has  a 
chain  of  gold  about  his  neck  ;  that  he  has  a  crown  of 
gold,  beset  with  pearls,  upon  his  head  :  others  say,  that 
the  shining  ones,  that  sometimes  showed  themselves  to 
him  in  his  journey,  are  become  his  companions,  an'^ 

*Rev.  iii.  4.  chap.  vi.  11. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  J  37 


that  he  is  as  familiar  with  them  in  the  place  where  he 
is,  as  here  one  neighbor  is  with  another.*  Besides,  it 
Is  confidently  affirmed  concerning  him,  that  the  king  of 
the  place  where  he  is,  has  bestowed  upon  him  already 
a  very  rich  and  pleasant  dwelling  at  ccuit,  and  that  he 
every  clay  eate,th,and  drinketh,  and  walketh,  and  talketh 
with  him,  and  receiveth  the  smiles  and  favors  of  him 
that  is  Judge  of  all  there.  Moreover,  it  is  expected  of 
some,  that  his  prince,  the  Lot  a  of  that  country,  will 
shortly  come  into  these  pails,  and  will  know  the  reason, 
if  they  can  give  any,  why  his  neighbors  set  so  little  by 
him,  and  had  him  so  much  in  derision,  when  they  per- 
ceived that  he  would  be  a  pilgrim  f 

For  they  say,  that  now  he  is  so  in  the  affections  of  his 
prince,  and  that  his  Sovereign  is  so  much  concerned 
with  the  indignities  that  were  cast  upon  Christian,  wi  en 
he  became  a  pilgrim,  that  he  will  look  upon  all  as  if 
done  to  himself  :  and  no  marvel,  for  it  was  for  the  love 
that  he  had  to  his  prince,  that  he  ventured  as  he  did.| 

I  dare  say,  quoth  I,  I  am  glad  oi  it ;  I  am  glad  lor  the 
poor  man's  sake,  for  that  :.ow  he  has  rest  from  his  !»• 
hour.}    and  for   that  he  now   reaps    the  benefits  of  his 
tears  with  joy  ;||  and  for  that  he  lu  s  got   beyond  the 
gun-shot  of  his  enemies,  and  is  out  of  the  read. 
that  hate    him.     I  also  am  glad,  for   that  a  rumor  of 
these  things  is  noised  abroad  in  this  country  ;  who 
tell  bi^.  that  it  may  work  some  good  effect  on  some  I 
are  lei*:  behind  ? — But  pray,  Sir,  while  it  is  fresh  in  try 
mind,   do  you  hear  any  thing  of  his  wife  jind  childien? 
Poor  hearts  !  I  wonder  in  my  mind  what  they  do. 

Sag.  Who  ?  Christiana  and  her  sons  ?  They  ar?  like 
to  do  a?  weil  as  did  Christian  himself;  for,  though  tl  . 
all  pla  .'ed  the  fool  at  first,  and  would  by  no  means  be 
persur  Jed  by  either  the  tears  or  entreaties  of  Chiibti 
yet  se»ond  thoughts  have  wrought  wonderfully  with 
them  :•  so  they  have  packed  up,  and  are  also  gone  a:ter 
him. 

v.tcr  and  better,  quoth  I  :  but,  what !  wife  and  ehil- 
and  all  ? 
ag.  It  is  true  :  I  can  give  you  an  account  of  the 

/    >h.  :ii.  7.  f  Jude  15.  \  Luke  x.  16. 

|    I'v.xiv.  13.  (Fs.  cxxVi.5,  6. 


138  THE  'PILGRIm'9    PROGRESS. 

matter:  for  I  was  upon  the  spot  at  the  instant,  and  was 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair. 

Then,  said  1*  may  a  man  report  it  for  a  truth  ? 

Sag.  You  need  not  fear  to  affirm  it :  I  mean,  that  they 
are  all  gone  on  pilgrimage,  both  the  good  woman  and 
her  tour  boys.  And  being  we  are,  as  I  perceive,  going 
some  considerable  way  together,  I  will  give  you  an  ac» 
count  of  the  whole  matter. 

This  Chrishana  (for  that  was  her  name  from  the 
day  that  she  with  her  children  betook  themselves  to  a 
pilgrim's  life)  after  her  husband  was  gone  over  the  river, 
and  she  could  hear  of  him  no  more,  her  thoughts  began 
to  work  in  her  mind.  First,  for  that  she  had  lost  her 
husband,  and  for  that  the  loving  bond  of  that  relation 
was  utterly  broken  betwixt  them.  Fcr  you  know,  said 
he  to  me,  nature  can  do  no  less  but  entertain  the  living 
with  many  a  heavy  cogitation,  in  the  remembrance  of 
the  loss  of  loving  relations.  This  therefore,  of  her  hus- 
band, did  cost  her  many  a  tear.  But  tnis  was  not  all ; 
for  Christiana  did  also  begin  to  consider  with  herself, 
whether  her  unbecoming  behaviour  towards  her  husband 
was  not  one  cause  that  she  saw  him  no  more  ;  and  that 
in  such  sort  he  was  taken  away  from  her.  And  upon 
this  came  into  her  mind  by  swarms,  all  her  unkind,  un- 
natural, and  ungodly  carriage  to  her  dear  friend  ;  which 
also  clogged  her  conscience,  and  did  load  her  with  guilt. 
She  was  moreover  much  broken  with  calling  to  remem- 
brance the  restless  groans,  the  brinish  tears,  a  ad  self- 
bemoaning  of  her  husband,  and  how  she  did  h?;rden  her 
heart  against  ail  his  entreaties,  and  loving  persuasions, 
of  her  and  her  sons  to  go  with  him  ;  yea,  there  was  not 
any  thing  that  Christian  either  said  to  her,  cv  did  be- 
fore her,  all  tjiat  while  that  his  burden  did  har.g  on  his 
back,  but  it  returned  upon  her  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
and  rent  the  caui  of  her  heart  in  sunder  ;  e^ecially 
that  bitter  outcry  of  his,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 
did  ring  in  her  ears  most  dolefully. 

Then  said  she  to  her  children,  «  Sons,  we  are  jgU  un- 
done. I  have  sinned  away  your  father,  and  he  is  gine : 
he  would  have  had  us  with  him,  but  I  would  now.,  go 
myself:  I  also  have  hindered  yon  of  life.'  With  Cthat 
the  boys  frll  into  tears,  and  cried  to  go  after  their  fath  er. 
i  Oh  !'  said  Christiana,  that  it  had  been  but  onr     of- 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  J 89 

to  g©  with  him  ;  then  it  had  fared  well  with  us,  beyond 
what  it  is  like  to  do  now.  For,  though  I  formerly  fool- 
ishly imagined  concerning  the  troubles  of  your  father, 
that  they  proceeded  of  a  foolish  fancy  that  he  had,  or  for 
that  he  was  over-run  with  melancholy  humors :  yet 
now,  it  will  not  be  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  they  sprang: 
from  another  cause  ;  to  wit,  for  that  the  light  of  life  w?>s 
given  him  ;*  by  the  help  of  &hich,  as  I  perceive,  he  has 
escaped  the  snares  of  death.'  Then  they  wept  all  again, 
and  criedout,  '  Oh,  wo  worth  the  day  I* 

The  next  night  Christiana  had  a  dream;  and  be- 
hold, she  saw  as  if  a  broad  parchment  was  opened  be- 
fore her,  in  which  were  recorded  the  sum  of  her  ways  ; 
and  the  crimes,  as  she  thought  looked  very  black  upon 
her.  Then  she  cried  out  aloud  in  her  sleep,  "  Lord 
have  mercy  upon  me  a  sinner  :"f — and  the  little  chil- 
dren heard  her. 

After  this,  she  thought  she  saw  two  very  ill- favored 
ones  standing  by  her  bed-side,  and  saying,  4  What  shall 
we  do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out  for  mercy 
waking  and  sleeping :  if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she 
begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her  husband. 
Wherefore  we  must,  by  some  way,  seek  to  take  her  off 
from  the  thoughts  of  what  shall  be  hereafter,  else  all  the 
world  cannot  help  but  she  will  become  a  pilgrim.' 

Now  she  awoke  in  a  -great  sweat ;  also  a  trembling 
was  upon  her :  but  after  a  while  she  fell  to  sleeping  a- 
gain.  And  then  she  thought  she  saw  Christian  her 
husband  in  a  place  of  bliss,  among  many  immortals, 
with  an  harp  in  his  hand,  standing  and  playing  upon  it 
before  One  that  sat  on  a  throne,  with  a  rainbow  about 
his  head.  She  saw  also,  as  if  he  bowed  his  head  with 
his  face  towards  the  paved  work  that  was  under  his 
Prince's  feet,  saying, *  I  heartily  thank  my  Lord  and 
King  for  bringing  me  into  this  place.'  Then  shouted 
a  company  of  them  that  stood  round  about,  and  harped 
with  their  harps :  but  no  man  living  could  tell  what 
they  said,  but  Christian  and  his  companions. 

Next  morning  when  she  was  up,  had  prayed  to  God, 
and  talked  with  her  children  awhile,  one  knocked  hard 
at  the  door ;    to  whom  she  spake  out,  saying,  «  If  thou 

*  John  viii.  12.  t  Luke  iviii. 


190 

come st  in  God's  name,  come  in.'  So  he  said,  *  Amen  ,* 
and  opened  the  door,  and  saluted  her  with,  M  Peace  on 
this  house."  The  which  when  he  had  done,  he  said, 
*  Christiana,  knowestthou  wherefoie  1  am  come  ?  Then 
she  blusheciand  trembled  j  also  her  heart  began  to  wax 
warm  with  desires  to  know  from  whence  he  came,  and 
what  his  errand  was  to  her.  So  he  said  unto  her,  '  My 
name  is  Secret  ;  1  dwelJ  with  those  that  are  high.  It 
is  talked  of,  where  1  dwell,  as  if  thou  hadst  a  desire  to 
go  thither  :  also  there  is  a  report,  that  thou  art  aware  of 
the  evil  thou  hast  formerly  done  to  thy  husband,  in  har- 
dening of  thy  heart  against  his  way,  and  in  keeping  of 
these  babes  in  their  ignorance.  Christiana,  the  Merci- 
ful One  has  sent  me  to  tell  thee,  that  be  is  a  God  read) 
to  ibi  give,  and  that  he  taketh  delight  to  multiply  the 
pardon  of  offences.  He  also  would  have  thee  to  know, 
that  be  inviteth  thee  to  come  into  bis  prcserce,  to  his 
table,  and  that  he  will  feed  thee  with  the  fat  of  his  house, 
and  with  the  heritage  ot  Jacob  thy  father. 

'There  is  Christian,  thy  husband  that  was,  with  le- 
gions more,  his  companions,  ever  beholding  that  face 
that  doth  minister  life  to  the  beholders  :  and  they  will 
all  be  glad,  when  they  shall  hear  the  sound  of  thy  feet 
step  over  thy  Father's  threshold.' 

Christiana  at  this  was  greatly  abtsned  in  herself,  and 
bowed  h'T  head  to  the  ground.  This  Vision  proceeded, 
and  snid, '  Cbiifctiarm.  here  is  also  a  letter  lor  ihee,  which 
I  lave  brought  from  thy  husband's  King  ;'  so  she  took 
it  and  opened  it,  but  it  smelt  after  the  manner  of  the  best 
perfume.*  Also  it  Was  written  in  letters  of  gold.  The 
contents  of  the  letter  were  these  :  '  that  the  King  would 
have  her  do  as  Christian  her  husband  ;  for  that  was  the 
only  way  to  come  to  his  city,  and  to  dwell  in  his  presence 
with  joy  for  ever.'  At  this  the  good  woman  was  quite 
overcome  :  so  she  cried  out  lo  her  visitor,  *  Sir,  will 
you  cany  me  and  my  chib'ren  with  yoiL,  that  we  may 
also  go  and  worship  the  King  ?' 

Then  said  the  visiter,  *  Christiana,  the  bitter  is  before 
the  sioeetS  Thou  must  through  troubles,  as  he  did 
that  wert  before  thee,  enter  this  celestial  city.  Where- 
fore I  advise  thee  to  do  as  did  Christian  thy  husband ; 

*  Sol.  Song.  i.3. 


191 

go  tothe  Wkfcot-gete  yonder  over  the  plain  ;  for  that 
stands  in  the  head  of  the  way  v..  .  must  go, 

and  I  wish  thee  all  good  speed.  Also  i  adyise  tnec, 
that  thou  put  this  letter  in  thy  bosom  :  that  thou  read 
therein  to  thyself,  and  to  thy  children,  until  they  have 
got  it  by  heart  ;  tor  it  is  one  of  the  scmg&that  ihou  must 
sing  wuite  thou  art  in  this  house  of  thy  pilgrimage  :* 
also  this  thou  mu^t  deliver  in  at  the  far  gate. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  this  old  gentleman,  as 
he  told  me  this  story,  did  himself  seem  to  be  greatly  af- 
fected therewith.  He  moreover  proceeded,  and  said, 
So  Christiana  called  her  sons  together,  and  began  thus 
to  address  herself  unto  them  :  k  My  sons,  1  have,  as 
you  may  perceive,  been  of  lale  under  much  exercise 
in  my  soul  about  the  death  of  your  father ;  not  for  that 
I  doubt  at  all  of  his  happiness  ;  for  I  am  satisfied  now 
that  he  is  well.  I  have  been  also  much  affected  with 
the  thoughts  of  mine  own  estate  and  yours,  which  I  ve- 
rily believe  is  by  nature  miserable.  My  carriage  also 
to  your  fattier  in  his  distress  i>  a  great  ioad  to  my  con- 
science :  for  I  hardened  botii  my  heart  ar;d  yours  a- 
gainst  him,  and  refused  to  go  with  him  on  pilgrimage. 

The  thoughts  oi  these  things  would  now  kid  me  ouc- 
right,  but  for  that  a  dream  that  I  had  last  night,  and  but 

t  for  the  encouragement  this  stranger  has  given  me 
this  morning.  Come,  my  children*  let  u,  pack  up,  and 
he  gone  to  the  gate  that  leads  us  to  that  celestial  coun- 
try, that  we  may  see  your  lather,  and  be  with  him  and 
his  companions  in  peace,  according  to  the  laws  ot  that 
laud.' 

Then  did  her  children  burst  out  kto  tears  for  joy  that 
the  heart  of  their  mother  was  so  inclined.  So  the  visit- 
or bid  them  farewell  :  and  they  began  to  prepare  to  set 
out  for  their  journey. 

But,   while  they  were  thus  about  to  be  gone,  two  oi 
the  women  that  were  Christiana's  neighbors  came  up  to 
house,   and  knocked  at  her  door.     To  whom 
►  Before.     At  this  the  women   were  stunned  : 
this  kind  of  language  they   used  not  to  hear,  or  to  per- 
e  to  drop  from  the  lips  of  Christiana.      \ret  they 
*  Psal.  cxi*.  51. 


192 

came  in  :  but,  behold,  they  found  the  good  woman  pre- 
paring to  be  gone  from  her  house. 

So  they  began,  and  said,  «  Neighbor,  pray,  what  is 
your  meaning  by  this  ? 

Christiana  answered,  and  said  to  the  eldest  of  them, 
whose  name  was  Mrs.  Timorous,  •  1  am  preparing  for 
a  journey.'  (This  Timorous  was  daughter  to  him  that 
met  Christian  upon  the  hill  of  Difficulty,  and  would 
have  had  him  gone  back  for  fear  of  the  lions.) 

Tim.  For  what  journey,  1  pray  you  ? 

Chr.  Even  to  go  after  my  old  husband. — And  with 
that  she  fell  to  weeping. 

Tim-  I  hope  not  so,  good  neighbor  ;  pray,  for  your 
poor  children's  sake,  do  not  so  unwomanly  cast  away 
yourself. 

Chr.  Nay  my  children  all  shall  go  with  me  :  not  one 
of  them  is  going  to  stay  behind. 

Tim.  I  wonder  in  my  heart,  what  or  who  has  brought 
you  into  this  mind  ! 

Chr.  Oh,  neighbor,  knew  you  but  as  much  as  I  do, 
I  doubt  not  but  that  you  would  go  along  with  me. 

Tim.  Pr'ythee,  what  new  knowledge  hast  thou  got, 
that  so  worketh  off  thy  mind  from  thy  friends,  and  that 
tempteth  thee  to  go  nobody  knows  where  ? 

Then  Christiana  replied,  I  have  been  sorely  afflicted 
since  my  husband's  departure  from  me  ;  but  especially 
since  he  went  over  the  river.  But  that  which  troubleth 
me  most  is  my  churlish  carriage  to  him,  when  he  was 
under  his  distress.  Besides,  1  am  now  as  he  was  then ; 
nothing  will  serve  me,  but  going  on  pilgrimage.  I  was 
a  dreaming  last  night,  that  I  saw  him.  Oh  that  my  soul 
was  with  him !  He  dwelleth  in  the  presence  of  the  king 
of  the  country  ;  he  sits  and  eats  with  him  at  his  table  ; 
he  is  become  a  companion  of  immortals,  and  has  a  house 
now  given  him  to  dwell  in,  to  which  the  best  places  on 
earth,  if  compared,  seem  to  me  but  a  dunghill.*  The 
Prince  of  the  place  has  also  sent  for  me,  with  promises 
of  entertainment,  if  I  shall  come  to  him  ;  his  messenger 
was  here  even  now,  and  brought  me  a  letter,  which  in- 
vites me  to  come. — And  with  that  she  plucked  out  her 

*  2  Cor.  v.  1—4. 


193 

letter,  and  read  it,  and  said  to  them,  What  now  will  you 
s,ay  to  this  ? 

Tim.  Oh  the  madness  that  has  possessed  thee  and 
thy  husband  !  to  run  yourselves  upon  such  difficulties  1 
You  have  heard,  I  am  sure,  what  your  husband  did  meet 
with,  even  in  a  manner,  at  the  first  step  that  he  took  on 
his  way,  as  our  neighbor  Obstinate  can  yet  testify,  for  he 
went  along  with  him  ;  yea,  and  Pliable  too,  until  they, 
like  wise  men,  were  afraid  to  go  any  further.  We  also 
heard,  over  and  above,  how  he  met  with  the  lions,  Apol- 
lyon,  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  many  other  things.  Nor 
is  the  danger  that  he  met  with  at  Vanity-fair  to  be  for- 
gotten by  thee.  For  if  he,  though  a  man,  was  so  hard 
put  to  it,  what  canst  thou,  being  a  poor  woman,  do  ? 
Consider  also,  that  these  four  sweet  babes  are  thy  chil- 
dren, thy  flesh  and  thy  bones.  Therefore,  though  thou 
shouldst  be  so  rash  as  to  cast  away  thyself;  yet  for  the 
sake  of  the  fruit  of  thy  body,  keep  them  at  home. 

But  Christiana  said  unto  her,  Tempt  me  not,  my 
neighbor  :  I  have  now  a  price  put  into  my  hand  to  get 
a  gain,  and  I  should  be  a  fool  of  the  greatest  sort,  if  I 
should  have  no  heart  to  strike  in  with  the  opportunity. 
And  for  that  you  tell  me  of  all  these  troubles  that  I  am 
like  to  meet  with  in  the  way,  they  are  so  far  from  being 
to  me  a  discouragement,  that  they  show  I  am  in  the  right. 
The  bitter  must  come  before  the  sxvect,  and  that  also  will 
make  the  sweet  the  sweeter.  Wherefore  since  you 
cam6  not  to  my  house  in  God's  name,  as  I  said,  I  pray 
you  be  gone,  and  do  not  disquiet  me  further. 

Then  Timorous  also  reviled  her,  and  said  to  her  fel- 
low, Come,  neighbor  Mercy,  let  us  leave  her  in  her  own 
hands,  since  she  scorns  our  counsel  and  company.'  But 
Mercy  was  at  a  stand,  and  could  not  so  readily  comply 
with  her  neighbor ;  and  that  for  a  two-fold  reason — 1st 
Her  bowels  yearned  over  Christiana.  So  she  said  with- 
in herself,  l  If  my  neighbor  will  needs  be  gone,  I  will 
go  a  little  way  with  her,  and  help  her.' — 2dly.  Her" 
bowels  yearned  over  her  own  soul ;  for  what  Christia- 
na had  said,  had  taken  some  hold  upon  her  mind. 
Wherefore  she  said  within  herself  again,  '  I  will  yet 
have  more  talk  with  this  Christiana;  and,  if  I  find  truth 
and  life  in  what  she  shall  say,  myself  with  my  heart 

R 


194  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

shall  also  go  with  her/     Wherefore  Mercy  began  thus 
to  reply  to  her  neighbor  Timorous. 

Mi  r.  Neighbor,  \  did  indeed  come  with  you  to  see 
Christiana  this  morning  ;  and,  since  she  is,  as  you  see,  a 
taking  her  last  farewell  of  the  country,  I  think  to 
this  sunshiny  morning,  a  little  with  her,  to  help  her  on 
her  way  — But  she  told  her  not  of  her  second  reason, 
but  kept  it  to  herself. 

Tim.  Well,  I  see  you  have  a  mind  to  go  a  fooling 
too  ;  but  take  heed  in  time,  and  be  wise  :  while  we  are 
out  of  danger,  we  are  out ;  but,  when  we  are  in,  we  are 
in. — So  Mis.  Timorc  js  returned  to  her  journey.  But, 
when  Timorous  was  got  home  to  her  house,  she  sends 
for  some  of  her  neighbors,  to  wit,  Mrs.  Bat's-eyes,  Mrs. 
Inconsiderate,  Mrs.  Light-mind,  and  Mrs.  Know-noth- 
ing. So,  when  they  were  come  to  her  house,  she  falls  to 
telling  of  the  story  of  Christiana,  and  of  her  intended 
journey.     And  thus  she  began  her  tale — 

Neighbors,  having  but  little  to  do  this  morning,  I 
went  to  give  Christiana  a  visit  ;  and,  when  I  came  at 
the  door,  I  knocked,  as  you  know  it  is  our  custom  :  and 
she  answered,  '  If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in.' 
So  in  I  went,  thinking  all  was  well  :  but,  when  I  came 
in,  I  found  her  preparing  herself  to  depart  the  town  ; 
she,  and  also  her  children.  So  I  asked  her,  what  was 
her  meaning  by  that  ?  And  she  told  me  in  short,  that 
she  was  now  of  a  mind  to  go  on  pilgrimage,  as  did  her 
husband.  She  told  me  also  a  dream  that  she  had,  and 
how  the  King  of  the  country  where  her  husband  was, 
had  sent  her  an  inviting  letter  to  come  thither. 

Then  said  Mrs.  Know-nothing,  And  what,  do  you 
think  she  will  go  ? 

Tim.  Ay,  go  she  will,  whatever  come  on't :  and  me- 
thinks  I  know  it  by  this  ;  for  that  which  was  my  great 
argument  to  persuade  her  to  stay  at  home  (to  wit,  the 
troubles  she  was  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way)  is  one 
great  argument  with  her  to  put  her  forward  on  her 
iourney.  For  she  told  me  in  so  many  words,  Uhe  bitter 
goes  before  the  sweet  ;  yea,  and  forasmuch  as  it  doth, 
it  makes  the  sweet  the  sweeter.' 

Mrs.  Bat*s-eyes.  Oh  this  blind  and  foolish  woman  ! 
and  will  she  not  take  warning  by  her  husband's  affiio 
tions?  For  my  part,  I  see,  if  he  were  here  again,  he 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  195 

would  rest  him  content  in  a  whole  skin,  and  never  run 
so  many  hazards  for  nothing. 

Mrs  Inconsiderate  also  replied,  saying,  Away  with 
such  fantastical  fools  from  the  town  :  a  good  riddance 
for  my  part,  I  say  of  her  ;  should  she  stay  where  she 
dwells,  and  retain  this  mind,  who  could  live  quietly  by 
her  ?  for  she  will  either  be  dumpish  or  unneighhorly, 
to  talk  of  such  matters  as  no  wise  body  can  abide :  where- 
fore, for  my  part,  1  shall  never  be  sorry  for  her  depar- 
ture ;  let  her  go,  and  let  better  come  in  her  room  :  it 
was  never  a  good  world  since  these  whimsical  fools 
dweit  in  it. 

Then  Mrs.  Light-mind  added  as  followeth  :  Come, 
put  this  kind  of  talk  away.  I  was  yesterday  at  Madam 
Wanton's,  where  we  were  as  merry  as  the  maids;  For 
who  do  you  think  should  be  there,  but  I  and  Mrs.  Love- 
thc-flesh;  and  three  or  four  more,  with  Mrs.  Lechery. 
Mrs.  Filth,  and  some  others  :  so  there  we  had  music 
and  dancing,  and  what  else  was  meet  to  fill  up  the  plea- 
sure. And,  I  dare  say,  my  lady  herself  is  an  admira- 
ble well-bred  gentlewoman,  and  Mr.  Lechery  is  as 
pretty  a  fellow. 

By  this  time  Christiana  was  got  on  her  way,  and  Mer- 
cy went  along  with  her  :  so  as  they  went  her  children 
beiig  there  also,  Christiana  began  to  discourse.  '  And 
Mercy/  said  Christiana,  '  I  take  this  as  an  unexpected 
favor,  that  thou  shouldst  set  foot  out  of  doors  with  me 
to  accompany  me  a  little  in  my  way.' 

Then  said  young  Mercy,  (for  she  was  but  young)  if  I 
thought  it  would  be  to  purpose  to  go  with  you,  I  would 
never  go  near  the  town. 

Well,  Mercy,  said  Christiana,  cast  in  thy  lot  with  me  ; 
I  well  know  what  will  be  the  end  of  our  pilgrimage  : 
my  husband  is  where  he  would  not  but  be  for  all' the 
gold  in  the  Spanish  mines.  Nor  shalt  thou  be  rejected, 
though  thou  goest  but  upon  my  invitation.  The  King, 
who  hath  sent  for  me  and  my  children,  is  one  that  de- 
lighteth  in  mercy.  Besides,  if  thou  wilt,  I  will  hire 
thee,  and  thou  shalt  go  along  with  me  as  my  servant. 
Yet  we  will  have  all  things  in  common  betwixt  thee 
and  me  :  only  go  along  with  me. 

Mer.  But  how  shall  I  be  ascertained  that  I  also  shall 
be  entertained  ?  Had  I  this  hope  from  one  that  can  tell, 


lyb  THE    PILGRIM  8    PROGRESS. 

I  would  make  no  stick  at  all,  but  would  go,  being  help- 
cd  by  him  that  can  help,  though  the  way  was  never  so 
tedious. 

C/ir.  Well,  loving  Mercy,  I  will  tell  thee  w  hat  thou 
shall  do  :  go  with  me  to  the  Wicket-gate,  and  there  I 
will  further  inquire  lor  thee ;  and,  if  there  thou  shalt  not 
meet  with  encouragement,  I  will  be  content  that  thou 
shalt  return  to  thy  place  ;  I  also  will  pay  thee  for  thy 
kindness  which  thou  showest  to  me  and  my  children, 
in  the  accompanying  of  us  in  our  way  as  thou  dost. 

Mer.  Then  I  will  go  thither,  and  will  take  what  shall 
follow  ;  and  the  Lord  grant  that  my  lot  may  there  fall, 
even  as  the  King  of  heaven  shall  have  his  heart  upon  me. 
Christiana  was  then  glad  at  heart ;  not  only  that  she 
had  a  companion  ;  but  also  for  that  she  had  prevailed 
with  this  poor  maid  to  fall  in  love  with  her  own  salva- 
tion. So  they  went  on  together,  and  Mercy  began  to 
weep.  Then  said  Christiana,  •  Wherefore  wecpeth 
my  sister  so  ?* 

^  Alas !  said  she,  who  can  but  lament,  that  shall  but 
rightly  consider  what  a  state  and  condition  my  poor  re- 
lations are  in,  that  yet  remain  in  our  sinful  town  ?  and 
that  which  makes  my  grief  the  more,  is,  because  they 
have  no  instruction,  nor  any  to  tell  them  what  is  to  come. 
C/ir.  Bowels,  become  pilgrims  :  and  thou  doest  for 
thy  friends,  as  my  good  Christian  did  for  me  when  he 
left  me ;  he  mourned  for  that  I  would  not  heed  nor 
regard  him  ;  but  his  Lord  and  ours  did  gather  up  his 
tears,  and  put  them  into  his  bottle  :  and  now  I  aud  thou, 
and  these  my  sweet  babes,  are  reaping  the  fruit  and  be- 
nefit of  them.  I  hope,  Mercy,  that  these  tears  of  thine 
will  not  be  lost ;  for  the  Truth  hath  said,  "  they  that 
sow  in  tears,  shall  reap  in  joy"  and  singing.  And  lie 
"  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed, 
shall  doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  his 
sheaves  with  him." 
Then  said  Mercy, 

Let  the  most  Blessed  he  my  guide, 

iPt  be  his  b\es$p(\  will, 
Ud  to  his  2^.te,  into  his  fold, 

Up  to  his  holy  kill  : 
And  let  him  never  suffer  ibq 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  197 

To  svrerve  or  turn  aside 
From  his  free-grace  and  holy  ways, 

Whate'er  shall  me. betide. 
Aud  let  him  gather  tbem  of  mine, 

That  I  have  left  behind  ; 
Lord,  make  them  pray  they  may  be  thine, 

With  all  their  heart  and  mind.' 

Now  my  old  friend  proceeded  and  said, — But?  whea 
Christiana  came  to  the  slough  of  Despond,  she  began 
to  be  at  a  stand  ;  *  For,'  said  she,  '  this  is  the  place  in 
■which  my  dear  husband  had  like  to  have  been  smother- 
ed with  mud.'  She  perceived  also,  that,  notwithstand- 
ing the  command  of  the  king  to  make  this  place  for  pil- 
grims good,  yet  it  was  rather  worse  than  formerly.  So  1^ 
asked  if  that  was  true  ?  Yes,  said  the  old  gentleman,  too 
true  :  for  many  there  be,  that  pretend  to  be  the  King's 
labourers,  and  say  they  are  for  mending  the  King's 
highways,  that  bring  dirt  and  dun^anstead  of  stones, 
and  so  mar,  instead  of  mendio^^H^re  Christiana  there- 
fore, and  her  boys,  did  make  a  stand  :  but  said  Mercy, 
i  come,  let  us  venture ;  only  let  us  be  wary.'  Then 
they  looked  well  to  their  steps,  and  made  a  shift  to  get 
staggering  over. 

Yet  Christiana  had  like  to  have  been  in,  and  that  not 
once  or  twice.  Now  they  had  no  sooner  got  over,  but 
they  thought  they  heard  words  that  said  unto  them, 
•(  Blessed  is  she  that  believeth,  for  there  shall  be  a  per- 
formance of  what  has  been  told  her  from  the  Lord." 

Then  they  went  on  again  ;  and  said  Mercy  to  Chris- 
tiana, Had  1  as  good  ground  to  Hope  for  a  loving  re- 
ception at  the  wicket-gate,  as  you,  1  think  no  slough  of 
Despond  could  discourage  me. 

Well,  said  the  other,  you  know  your  sore,  and  I  know 
mine  ;  and,  good  friend,  we  shall  have  enough  evil  be- 
fore we  come  to  our  journey's  end.  For  it  cannot  be 
imagined,  that  the  people  that  design  r  attain  such  ex- 
cellent gk-ries  as  we  do,  and  that  are  so  envied  that  hap- 
piness as  we  are,  but  that  we  shall  meet  with  what  fears 
and  snares,  with  what  troubles  and  afflictions,  they  can 
possibly  assault  us  with  that  hate  us — 

And  now  Mr.  Sagacity  left  me  to  dream  out  my  dream 
by  myself.  Wherefore,  methought  I  saw  Christiana,  and 
Mercy,  and  the  boys,  go  all  of  them  up  to  the  gate ;  to 
K  2 


198  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

which  when  they  came,  they  betook  themselves  to  a 
short  debate,  about  how  they  must  manage  their  calling 
at  the  gate  :  and  what  should  be  said  unto  him  that  did 
open  unto  them  :  so  it  was  concluded,  since  Christiana 
was  the  eldest,  that  she  should  knock  for  entrance,  and 
that  she  should  speak  to  him  that  did  open  for  the  rest. 
So  Christiana  began  to  knock,  and.  as  her  poor  husband 
did,  she  knocked  and  knocked  again.  But  instead  of  a- 
ny  that  answered,  they  all  thought  that  they  heard  as  if  a 
dog  came  barking  fcpon  them  ;  a  dog,  and  a  great  one 
too  ;  and  this  made  the  women  and  children  afraid. 
Nor  durst  they  for  a  while  to  knock  any  more,  for  fear 
the  mastiffshould  fly  upon  them.  Now  therefore  they 
wee  greatly  tumbled  up  and  down  in  their  minds,  and 
knew  not  what  to  do  :  Knock  they  durst  not,  for  fear 
of  the  dog  ;  go  back  they  durst  not,  for  fear  the  kee- 
per of  that  gate  should  espy  them  as  they  so  went,  and 
be  offended  with  thein  :  at  last  they  thought  of  knocking 
ag*in,  and  knocking  more  vehemently  than  they  did  at 
first.  Then  said  the  keeper  of  the  gate,  *  Who  is 
there  V  So  the  dog  left  off  to  bark,  and  he  opened  unto 
them. 

Then  Christiana  made  low  obeisance,  and  said,  «  Let 
not  our  Lord  be  offended  with  his  handmaidens,  for  that 
we  have  knocked  at  his  princely  gate.'  Then  said  the 
keeper,  Whence  came  ye  ?  And  what  is  it  that  you 
would  have  ? 

Christiana  answered,  We  are  come  from  whence 
Christian  did  come,  and  upon  the  same  errand  as  he  ; 
to  wit,  to  be,  if  it  shall  please  you,  graciously  admitted, 
by  this  gate,  into  the  way  that  leads  unto  the  Celestial 
city.  And  I  answer,  My  Lord,  in  the  next  place,  that 
1  am  Christiana,  once  the  wife  of  Christian,  that  now  is 
gotten  above. 

With  that  the  keeper  of  the  gate  did  marvel,  saying, 
*  What,  is  she  now  become  a  pilgrim,  that  but  a  while 
ago  abhorred  that  life  V  Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and 
said,  Ye?  ;  and  so  are  these  my  sweet  babes  also.' 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand  and  let  her  in,  and  said 
also,  "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me  ;"  and 
with  that  he  shut  up  the  gate.  This  done,  he  called  to 
a  trumpeter  that  was  above,  over  the  gate,  to  entertain 
Christiana  with  shouting,  and  sound;  oftrunrpet,  for  joy. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  199 

So  he  obeyed,  and  sounded  and  filled  tho  air  with  his 
melodious  notes. 

Now  all  this  while  poor  Mercy  did  stand  without, 
trembling  and  crying  lor  fear  that  bhe  was  rejected. 
But  when  Christiana  had  gotten  admittance  For  beia.if 
and  her  boys,  then  she  began  to  make  intercession  for 
Mercy. 

And  she  said,  My  Lord,  I  have  a  companion  of  mine 
that  stands  yet  without,  that  is  come  hither  upon  the 
same  account  as  myself:  one  that  is  much  dejected  in 
her  mind,  for  that  she  comes,  as  she  thinks,  without  sen- 
ding for  ;  whereas  I  was  sent  to  by  my  husband's  King 
to  come. 

Now  Mercy  began  to  be  very  impatient,  and  each 
minute  was  as  long  to  her  as  an  hour;  wherefore  she 
prevented  Christiana  from  a  fuller  interceding  for  her, 
by  knocking  at  tne  gate  hersell.  And  she  knocked 
then  so  loud,  that  she  made  Christiana  to  start.  Then 
said  the  keeper  of  the  gate,  4  Who  is  there  V  And 
Christiana  said,  *  It  is  rey  friend.' 

So  he  opened  the  gate  and  looked  out,  but  Mercy 
was  fallen  down  without  in  a  swoon  ;  for  she  faimed,, 
and  was  afraid  that  no  gate  would  be  opened  to  her. 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Damsel,  I 
bid  thee  arise." 

*  O  sir,'  said  she, <  I  am  faint  ;  there  is  scarce  life  left 
in  me.'  But  he  answered  that  one  said,  "  When  my 
soul  fainted  within  me,  I  remembered  the  Lord,  and 
my  prayer  came  unto  thee,  into  thy  holy  temple.'*  Fear 
not,  but  stand  upon  thy  feet,  and  tell  me  wherefore  thou 
art  come. 

Mer.  I  am  com«  for  that  unto  which  I  was  never  in- 
vited, as  my  friend  Christiana  was.  Her's  was  from 
the  King,  and  mine  was  but  from  her.  Wherefore  I 
presume. 

Good-will.  Did  she  desire  thee  to  come  with  her  to 
this  place  ? 

Mcr.  Yes  ;  and,  as  my  Lord  sees,  I  am  come  :  and, 
if  there  is  any  grace  and  forgiveness  of  sins  to  spare,  I 
beseech  that  thy  poor  handmaid  may  be  made  partaker 
thereof. 

*  Jonah  ii.  7. 


200  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Then  he  took  her  j?gain  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  gen- 
tly in,  and  said,  •  I  pray  for  all  them  that  believe  on 
me,  by  what  means  soever  they  come  unto  me/  Then 
said  he  to  those  that  stood  by,  Fetch  something,  and 
give  it  Mercy  to  smell  on,  thereby  to  stay  her  faintings.* 
So  they  fetched  her  a  bundle  of  myrrh.  Awhile  af'er 
she  was  revived. 

And  now  was  Christiana  and  her  boys,  and  Mercy, 
received  of  the  Lord  at  the  head  of  the  wa>,  and  spoke 
kindly  unto  by  him.  Then  said  they  yet  further  unto 
him,  *  We  are  sorry  for  our  sins,  and  beg  of  our  Lord 
his  pardon,  and  further  information  what  we  must  do.' 

I  grant  pardon,  said  he,  by  words  and  deed  ?  by  word, 
in  the  promise  of  forgiveness  ;  by  deed,  in  the  way  I  ob- 
tained it.  Take  the  first  from  my  lips  with  a  kiss,  and 
the  other  as  it  shall  be  revealed  * 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  spake  many  good 
words  unto  them,  whereby  they  weie  greatly  gladden- 
ed. He  also  had  them  up  to  the  lop  of  the  gate,  and 
showed  them  by  what  deed  they  were  saved  :  and  told 
them  withal,  that  that  sight  they  would  have  again  as 
they  went  along  in  the  way,  to  their  comfort. 

So  he  left  them  awhile  in  a  summer  parlor  below, 
where  they  entered  into  talk  by"  themselves  :  and  thus 
Ghiistiana  began  :  *  O  Lord,  how  glad  am  I  that  we  are 
got  in  hither  ! 

Mer.  So  you  well  may :  but  I  of  all  have  cause  to 
leap  for  joy. 

Chr.  I  thought  at  one  time  as  I  stood  at  the  gate  (be- 
cause I  had  knocked  and  none  did  answer)  that  all  our 
labor  had  been  lost,  especially  when  that  ugly  cur  made 
such  a  heavy  barking  at  us. 

Mer.  But  my  worst  fear  was,  after  I  saw  that  you 
was  taken  into  his  favor,  and  that  I  was  left  behind. 
Now,  thought  I,  it  is  fulfilled  which  is  written,  4t  Two 
women  shall  be  grinding  together,  the  one  shall  be  ta- 
ken and  the  other  left.f  I  had  much  ado  to  forbear  cry- 
ing out,  Undone  !  And  afraid  I  was  to  knock  any  more, 
but  when  I  looked  up  to  what  was  written  over  the 
gate,  I  took  courage.     I  also  thought,  that  1  must  either 

*  Sol  Song  i.  2.  T  Matt.  xxiv.  41 . 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  201 

knock  again  or  die  :  so  I  knocked,  but  I  cannot  tell 
how ;  for  my  spirit  now  struggled  between  life  and  death. 

Chr.  Can  you  tell  how  you  knocked  ?  I  am  sure  your 
knocks  were  so  earnest,  that  the  very  sound  made  me 
start  :  I  thought  I  never  heard  such  knocking  in  all  my 
life  ;  I  thought  you  would  come  in  by  a  violent  hand,  o:- 
to  take  the  kingdom  by  storm.* 

Mer.  Alas,  to  be  in  my  case  !  who  that  so  was,  could 
but  have  done  so  ?  You  saw  that  the  dcor  wa3  shut  up- 
on me,  and  that  there  was  a  most  cruel  dog  thereabout. 
Who,  I  say,  that  was  so  faint-hearted  as  I,  would  not 
have  knocked  with  ail  their  might? — But  pray*. what 
said  my  Lord  unto  my  rudeness  ?  Was  be  not  angry 
with  me  ? 

Ckr.  When  he  heard  your  lumbering  noise,  he  gave 
a  wonderful  innocnet  smile  :  1  believe  what  you  did 
pleased  him  well,  for  he  showed  no  sign  to  the  contra- 
ry. But  I  marvel  in  my  heart  why  he  keeps  such  :v 
dog :  had  I  known  that  before,  I  should  not  have  had 
heart  enough  to  have  ventured  myself  in  this  manner. 
But  now  we  are  in,  we  are  in,  and  I  am  glad  with  all  my 
heart. 

Mer.  I  will  ask,  if  you  please,  next  time  he  comes 
down  why  he  keeps  such  a  filthy  cur  in  his  yard  :  I 
hope  he  will  not  take  it  amiss. 

Do  so,  said  the  children,  and  persuade  him  to  hang 
him ;  for  we  are  afraid  he  will  bite  us  when  we  go  hence. 

So  at  last  he  came  down  to  them  again,  and  Mercy 
fell  to  the  ground  on  her  face  before  him,  and  worship- 
ped, and  said,  '  Let  my  Lord  accept  the  sacrifice  of 
praise  which  I  now  offer  unto  him  with  the  calves  of 
my  lips.' 

So  he  said  unto  her,  }  Peace  be  to  thee  !  stand  up.' 
But  she  continued  upon  her  face,  and  said,  '*  Righteous 
art  thou,  O  Lord,  when  I  plead  with  thee,  yet  let  me 
talk  with  thee  of  thy  judgments  ;"*  wherefore  dost  thou 
keep  so  cruel  a  dog  in  the  yard,  at  the  sight  of  which 
such  women  and  children  as  we  are  ready  to  flee  from 
the  gate  for  fear  ? 

He  answered  and  said.  That  dog  has  another  owner : 
he  is  also  kept  close  in  another  man's  ground,  only  m^ 

*Matt.  xi.  12.  f  Jer.*ik.l,£. 


202 

pilgrims  hear  his  barking  :  he  belongs  to  the  castle 
which  you  see  there  at  a  distance,  bat  can  come  up  to 
the  walls  of  this  place.  He  has  frightened  many  an  ho- 
nest pilgrim  from,  worse  to  better,  by  the  great  voice  of 
Lis  roaring.  Indeed  he  that  owneth  hirn  doth  not  keep 
him  out  of  any  good-will  to  me  or  mine,  but  with  in- 
tent to  keep  the  pilgrims  from  coming  to  me,  and  that 
they  may  be  afraid  to  come  and  knock  at  this  gate  for 
entrance.  Sometimes  also  he  has  broken  out,  and  has 
worried  some  that  I  loved  ;  but  I  take  ail  at  present  pa- 
tiently. I  also  give  my  pilgrims  timely  help,  so  that 
they  are  not  delivered  up  to  his  power,  to  do  to  them 
what  his  doggish  nature  would  prompt  him  to.  But 
what !  my  purchased  one,  I  trow,  hadst  thou  known 
never  so  much  before-hand,  thou  wouldstnot  have  been 
afraid  of  a  dog.  The  beggars  that  go  from  door  to 
door,  will  rather  than  they  will  lose  a  supposed  alms, 
run  the  hazard  of  the  bawling,  barking,  and  biting  too 
oi  a  dog  :  and  shall  a  dog  in  another  man's  yard  ;  a  dog 
whose,  barking  I  turn  to  the  profit  of  pilgrims,  keep  a- 
ny  from  coming  to  me  ?  I  deliver  them  from  the  lions, 
and  "  my  darling  from  the  power  of  the  dog." 

Then  said  Mercy,  I  confess  my  ignorance  ;  I  speak 
what  I  understand  not :  I  acknowledge  that  thou  doest 
all  things  well. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  talk  of  their  journey,  and 
to  inquire  after  the  way.  So  he  fed  them  and  washed 
their  feet,  and  set  them  in  the  way  of  his  steps,  accord- 
ing as  he  had  dealt  with  her  husband  before. 

Sol  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  their  way  ; 
a»d  the  weather  was  comfortable  to  them. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  sing,  saying, 

Bless'd  be  the  day  that  I  began 

A  pilgrim  for  to  be  ; 
And  blessed  aho  be  that  man 

That  thereunto  mov'd  me. 
'Tis  true,  'twas  long  ere  I  began 

To  seek  to  live  lor  ever  :* 
But  now  I  run  fast  as  I  can  ; 

'Tis  better  late  than  never. 
Our  tears  to  joy  our  fears  to  faith. 

*Matt.  xx.  \6. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  *203 

Are  turned  as  we  see; 
That  our  beginning  (.is  one  saith) 
♦Shows  what  our  end  will  be.' 

New  there  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  that  fen- 
ced m  t!,e  way  up  which  Christiana  and  her  compan- 
ions were  to  go,  a  garden,  and  that  belonged  to  him, 
whose  was  that  barking  dog,  of  whom  mention  was  made 
before.  And  some  of  the  fruit  trees  that  grew  in  the 
garden,  shot  their  branches  over  the  wail  ;  and  being 
mehow,  they  that  found  them  did  gather  them  up,  and 
cat  cf  them  to  their  hurt.  So  Christiana's  boys  (ys  boys 
are  apt  to  do)  being  pleased  with  the  trees, and  with  the 
fruit  that  c! id  hang  thereon,  did  pluck  them  and  began 
to  eat.  Their  mother  did  also  chide  them  for  so  doing, 
but  still  the  boys  went  on. 

'  Weil,'  said  she, '  my  sons,  you  transgress ;  for  that 
fruit  is  none  of  ours  :'  but  she  did  not  know  that  they 
did  belong  to  the  enemy  :  I'll  warrant  you,  if  she  had, 
she  would  have  been  ready  to  die  for  fear.  But  that 
passed  and  they  went  on  their  way. — Now,  by  that  they 
were  gone  about  two  bow's  shot  from  the  place  that 
led  them  into  the  way,  they  espied  two  very  ill-favored 
ones  coming  down  apace  to  meet  them.  With  that 
Christiana  and  Mercy  her  friend  covered  themselves 
with  their  veils,  and  kept  also  on  their  journey  ;  the  chil- 
dren also  went  en  before :  so  that  at  last  they  met  to- 
gether. Then  they  that  came  down  to  meet  them,  came 
just  up  to  the  women,  as  if  they  would  embrace  them  : 
but  Christiana  said,  '  Stand  back,  or  go  peaceably  as 
you  should.'  Yet  these  twe,  as  men  that  are  deaf,  re- 
garded not  Christiana's  woids,  but  began  to  lay  hands 
upon  them  :  at  that  Christiana  waxed  very  wroth,  and 
spurned  at  them  with  herifect.  Mercy  also,  as  well  as 
she  could,  did  what  she  could  to  shift  them.  Christiana 
again  said  to  them,  *  Stand  back,  and  be  gone,  for  we 
have  no  money  to  lose,  being  pilgrims  as  you  see,  and 
such  too  as  live  upon  the  charity  ol  our  friends.' 

Then  said  one  of  the  two  men,  We  make  no  assault 
upon  your  money,  but  are  come  out  to  tell  you,  that  if 
you  will  but  grant  one  small  request  which  we  shall 
ask,  we  will  make  women  of  you  for  ever. 

New  Christiana,  imagining  what  they  should  mean, 


204  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

made  answer  again,  '  We  will  neither  hear  nor  regard, 
nor  yield  to  what  you  shall  ask.  We  are  in  haste,  and 
cannot  stay  :  our  business  is  of  life  and  death.*  So  again 
she  and  her  companions  made  a  fresh  essay  to  get  past 
them  :  but  they  letted  them  in  the  way. 

And  they  said,  we  intend  no  hurt  to  your  lives  ;  'tis 
another  thing  we  would  have. 

'  Ay,'  quoth  Christiana,  *  you  would  have  us  body 
and  soul,  for  I  know  'tis  for  that  you  are  corne  ;  but  we 
will  die  rather  upon  the  spot,  than  suffer  ourselves  to 
be  brought  into  such  snares  as  shall  hazard  our  well-be- 
ing hereaf  er.'  And  with  that  they  both  shrieked  out 
and  cr]ed,  Murder  !  Murder  !  and  so  put  themselves 
under  those  laws  that  are  provided  for  the  protection  of 
women.*  Uut  the  men  still  made  their  approach  upon 
them,  with  design  to  prevail  against  them.  They 
therefore  cried  out  again. 

Now  they  being,  as  I  said,  not  far  from  the  gate,  in  at 
which  they  came,  their  voice  was  heard  from  where 
they  were  thither  :  wherefore  some  of  the  house  came 
out,  and  knowing  that  it  was  Christiana's  tongue,  they 
made  haste  to  her  relief.  But  by  that  they  were  got 
within  sight  of  them,  the  women  were  in  a  very  great 
scuffle  :  the  children  also  stood  crying  by.  Then  did 
he  that  csime  in  for  their  relief  call  out  to  the  ruffians, 
saying,  i  What  is  that  thing  that  you  do  ?  Would  you 
make  my  Lord's  people  to  transgress  ?'  He  also  at- 
tempted to  take  them  ;  but  they  did  make  their  escape 
ever  the  wrall  into  the  garden  of  the  man  to  whom  the 
great  doe;  belonged  :  so  the  dog  became  their  prdttctor. 

This  Relieve?-  then  came  up  to  the  women  and  asked 
them  how  they  did.  So  they  answered,  '  We  thank 
thy  Prince,  pretty  well ;  only  we  have  been  somewhat 
affrighted  :  we  thank  thee,  also,  that  thou  earnest  in  to 
our  help,  for  otherwise  we  had  been  overcome.' 

So  after  some  more  words,  this  Reliever  said  as  fol- 
loweth  :  I  marvelled  much,  when  you  were  entertained 
at  the  gate  above,  seeing,  ye  know  that  ye  were  but 
weak  women,  that  you  petitioned  not  the  Lord  for  a  con- 
ductor ;  then  might  you  have,  avoided  these  troubles 
and  dangers  :  he  would  have  granted  you  one. 

*  Beut.  xxii.  23— 2?. 


! 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  *20j 

Alas  !  said  Christiana,  we  were  so  taken  with  our  pre- 
sent blessing,  that  dangers  to  come  were  forgotten  by 
us  :  beside,  who  could  have  thought,  that  so  near  the 
king's  palace,  there  should  have  lurked  such  naughty- 
ones  ?  Indeed  it  had  been  well  for  us,  had  we  asked  our 
Lord  for  one  ;  but  since  our  Lord  knew  it  would  be 
for  our  profit,  I  wonder  he  sent  not  one  along  with  us. 

Rel.  It  is  not  always  necessary  to  grant  things  not  as- 
ked for>  lest  so  doing  they  become  of  little  esteem  :  but, 
when  the  want  of  a  thing  is  felt,  it  then  comes  under,  in 
the  eyes  of  him  that  feels  it,  that  estimate  that  properly 
is  its  due  ;  and  so  consequently  will  be  hereafter  used. 
Had  my  Lord  granted  you  a  conductor,  you  would  not, 
neither,  so  have  bewailed  that  oversight  of  yours  in  not 
asking  for  one,  as  now  you  have  occasion  to  do.  So  all 
things  work  for  good,  and  tend  to  make  you  more  wary. 
Cfir.  Shall  we  go  back  again  to  my  Lord,  and  confess 
our  folly,  and  ask  one  ? 

ReL  Your  confession  of  your  folly  I  will  present  him 
with  :  to  go  back  again,  you  need  not  ;  for  in  all  places 
where  you  shall  come  you  will  find  no  want  at  all :  for 
at  every  of  my  Lord's  lodgings,  which  he  has  prepared 
for  the  reception  of  his  pilgrims,  there  is  sufficient  to 
furnish  them  against  all  attempts  whatsoever.  But  as 
I  said,  "  he  will  be  inquired  of  by  them,  to  do  it  for 
them."*  And  it  is  a  poor  thing  that  is  not  worth  ask- 
ing for. — When  he  had  thus  said,  he  went  back  to  his 
place,  and  the  pilgrims  went  on  their  way. 

Then  said  Mercy,  What  a  sudden  blank  is  here  !  I 
made  account  we  had  been  past  all  danger,  and  that  we 
should  never  sorrow  more. 

Thy  innocency,  my  sister,  said  Christiana  to  Mercy, 
may  excuse  thee  much  ;  but  as  for  me,  my  fault  is  so 
much  the  greater,  for  that  I  saw  this  danger  before  I 
came  out  of  the  doors,  and  yet  did  not  provide  for  it 
where  provision  might  have  been  had.  I  am  much  to 
be  blamed. 

Then  said  Mercy,  how  knew  you  this  when  you  came 
from  home  ?  Pray  open  to  me  this  riddle. 

Chr.  Why,  I  will  tell  you. — Before  I  set  foot  out  of 
doors,  one  night  as  I  lay  in  my  bed,  I  had  a  dream  about 

♦Erek.  xxvi.  37. 
S 


206 

this  :  for  methought  I  saw  two  men  as  like  these  as  ev- 
er the  world  they  could  look,  stand  Lit  my  bed's  feet, 
plotting  how  they  might  prevent  my  salvation.  I  will 
tell  you  their  very  words  :  they  said  (it  was  when  I  was 
in  my  troubles)  *  What  shall  we  do  with  this  woman  ? 
for  she  cries  out  waking  and  sleeping  for  forgiveness  : 
if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she  begins,  we  shall  lose 
her  as  we  have  lost  her  husbsnd.'  This  you  know 
might  have  made  me  take  heed,  and  have  provided 
when  provisions  might  have  been  had. 

Well,  said  Mercy,  as  by  this  neglect  we  have  an  oc- 
casion ministered  unto  us  to  behold  our  imperfections, 
so  our  Lord  has  taken  occasion  thereby  to  manifest  the 
riches  of  his  grace;  for  he,  as  we  see,  has  followed  us 
with  unasked  kindness,  and  has  delivered  us  from  their 
hands  that  were  stronger  than  we,  of  his  mere  good 
pleasure. 

Thus  now,  when  they  had  talked  away  a  little  more 
time,  they  drew  near  to  an  house  that  stood  in  the  way  ; 
which  house  was  built  for  the  relief  of  pilgrims  :  as  you 
will  find  more  fully  related  in  the  first  part  of  the  rec- 
ords of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  So  they  drew  on  to- 
wards the  house  (the  house  of  the  Interpreter)  and,  when 
they  came  to  the  door,  they  heard  a  great  talk  in  the 
house  :  then  they  gave  ear,  and  heard,  as  they  thought, 
Christiana  mentioned  by  name.  For  you  must  know, 
that  there  went  along,  even  before  her,  a  talk  cf  her  and 
her  children  going  on  pilgrimage.  And  this  was  the 
more  pleasing  to  them,  because  they  had  heard  that  she 
was  Christian's  wife,  that  woman  who  was  some  time  a- 
go  so  unwilling  to  hear  of  going  on  pilgrimage.  Thus, 
therefore,  they  stood  still,  and  heard  the  good  people 
within  commending  her,  who  they  little  thought  stood 
at  the  door. — At  last  Christiana  knocked,  as  she  had 
done  at  the  gate  before.  Now,  when  she  had  knocked, 
there  came  to  the  door  a  young  damsel,  named  Inno- 
cent, and  opened  the  door,  and  looked,  and,  behold,  two 
women  were  there. 

Then  said  the  damsel  to  them,  *  With  whom  would 
you  speak  in  this  place  i* 

Christiana  answered,  We  understand  that  this  is  a 
privileged  place  for  those  that  are  become  pilgrims,  and 
we  now  at  this  door  are  such  :  wherefore  we  pray  that 


THE 


PROGRESS.  207 


we  may  be  partakers  of  that  for  which  we  at  tins  time 
are  corns  ;  for  the  day,  as  thou  seest,  is  very  far  spent, 
and  wc  areloth  to  night  to  go  any  further. 

Dam.  Pray  what  may  I  call  your  name,  that  I  may 
tell  it   o  my  Lord  within  ? 

Ckr.  My  name  is  Christiana  ;  I  was  the  w'ife  of  that 
pilgrim  that  some  years  ago  did  travel  this  way  ;  and 
these  be  his  four  children.  This  maiden  is  also  my 
companion,  and  is  going  on  pilgrimage  too. 

Then  ran  Innocent  in  (for  that  was  her  name)^  and 
said  to  those  within,  '  Can  you  think  who  is  at  the  door? 
there  is  Christiana  and  her  children,  and  her  companion, 
al*  waiting  for  entertainment  here  ?  Then  they  leaped 
for  joy,  and  Went  and  tokU  their  master.  So  he  came 
to  the  door,  and,  looking  upon  her,  he  said,  *  Art  thou 
that  Christiana  whom  Christian  the  good  man  left  be- 
hind him  when  he  betook  himself  to  a  pilgrim's  life  V 

Chr.  I  am  that  woman  that  was  so  hard-hearted  as  to 
slight  my  husband's  troubles,  and  that  left  him  to  go  on 
his  journey  alone :  and  these  are  his  four  children ;  but 
now  I  aiso  am  come,  for  I  am  convinced  that  no  way  is 
right  but  this. 

Biter.  Then  is  fulfilled  that  which  is  written  of  the*, 
man  that  said  to  his  son,  "  Go  work  to-day  in  my  vine- 
yard ;  and  he  said  to  his  father,  I  will  not  :  but  after- 
wards repented  and  went."* 

Then  said  Christiana,  So  be  it :  Amen.  God  make 
it  a  true  saying  upon  me,  and  grant  that  I  may  be  found 
£t  the  last  "  of  him  in  peace,  without  spot,  and  blame- 
less !" 

Liter.  But  why  standest  thou  at  the  door  ?  Come  in, 
thou  daughter  of  Abraham:  we  were  talking  of  thee 
but  now,  for  tidings  have  come  to  us  before,  how  thou 
art  become  a  pilgrim.  Come,  children,  come  in  :  come 
maiden,  come — So  he  had  them  all  into  the  house. 

So,  when  they  were  within,  they  were  bidden  to  sit 
down  and  rest  them ;  the  which  when  they  had  done, 
those  that  attended  upon  the  pilgrims  in  the  house  came 
into  the  room  to  see  them.  And  one  smiled,  and  ano- 
ther smiled,  and  they  all  smiled,  for  joy  that  Christian?. 
was  become  a   pilgrim  :  they  also   looked  upon  the 

*  Matt,  xxi,  23,  29. 


208  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

boys  ;  they  stroked  them  over  their  faces  with  their 
hands  in  token  of  their  kind  reception  of  them  ;  they  al- 
so carried  it  lovingly  to  Mercy,  and  bid  them  all  wel- 
come into  their  Master's  house. 

After  a  while,  because  supper  was  not  ready,  the  In- 
terpreter took  them  into  his  signijicant  rooms,  and  show- 
ed them  what  Christian,  Christiana's  husband  had  seen 
some  time  before.  Here,  therefore,  they  saw  the  man 
in  the  cage,  the  man  and  his  dream*  the  man  that  cut 
his  way  through  his  enemies,  and  the  picture  of  the  big- 
gest of  all ;  together  with  the  rest  of  those  things  that 
were  then  so  profitable  to  Christian. 

This  done,  and.  after  those  things  had  been  somewhat 
digested  by  Christiana  and  her  companyr  the  Interpreter 
takes  them  apart  again,  and  has  them  first  into  a  room 
where  was  a  man  that  could  look  no  way  but  downwards, 
with  a  muck-rake  in  his  hand  i  there  stood  also  one  o- 
ver  his  head  with  a  Celestial  crown  in  his  hand,  and 
proffered  him  that  crown  for  his  muck-rake  ;  but  the 
man  did  neither  look  up  nor  regard,  but  raked  to  him- 
self the  straws,  the  small  sticks,  and  dust  of  the  floor. 

Then  said  Christiana,  I  persuade  myself  that  I  know 
somewhat  the  meaning  ol  this  ;  for  this  is  the  figure  of 
a  man  in  this  world  ;  is  it  not,  good  Sir  ? 

Thou  hast  said  right,  said  he,  and  his  muck-rake  doth 
show  his  carnal  mind.  And,  whereas  thou  seest  him 
rather  give  heed  to  rake  up  straws  and  sticks,  and  the 
dust  of  the  floor,  than  do  what  he  says  that  calls  to  him 
from  above,  with  the  celestial  crow*  in  his  hand ;  it  is 
to  show  that  heaven  is  but  a  fable  to  some,  and  that 
things  here  ore  counted  the  only  things  substantial. 
Now  whereas  as  it  was  also  showed  thee,  that  the  man 
could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  it  is  to  let  thee  know, 
that  earthly  things,  when  they  are  with  power  upon 
men's  minds,  quite  cany  their  hearts  away  from  God. 

Then  said  Christiana,  O  !  deliver  me  from  this  muck- 
rake. 

That  prayer,  said  the  Interpreter,  has  lam  by  till  it  is 
almost  rusty : 4l  Give  me  not  riches,"  is  scarce  the  pray- 
er oi  one  of  ten  thousand.*  Straws  and  sticks,  and  dust, 
with  most  are  the  greatest  things  now  looked  after< 

Prov.  xxx.  8. 


THE 


pilgrim's  progress.  209 


With  that  Mercy  and  Christiana  wept,  and  said, '  It 
is,  alas  !  too  true.' 

When  the  Interpreter  had  showed  them  this,  he  had 
them  into  the  very  best  room  in  the  house  (a  very  brave 
room  it  was :)  s°  Iie  D*d  them  look  round  about,  and 
see  if  they  could  find  any  thing  profitable  there.  Then 
they  looked  round  and  round  ;  for  there  was  nothing  to 
be  seen  but  a  very  great  spider  on  the  wall  :  and  that 
they  overlooked. 

Then  said  Mercy,  Sir,  I  see  nothing  :  but  Christiana 
held  her  peace. 

But,  said  the  Interpreter,  *  Look  again  :*  she  there- 
fore looked  again,  and  said,  '  Here  is  not  any  thing  but 
an  ugly  spider,  who  hangs  by  her  hands  upon  the  wall.' 
*  Then,'  said  he,  '  is  there  but  one  spider  in  all  this  spa- 
cious room  ?'  Then  the  water  stood  in  Christiana's 
eyes,  for  she  was  a  woman  quick  of  apprehension  :  and 
she  said, '  Yes,  Lord,  there  is  more  here  than  one  :  yea, 
and  spiders  whose  venom  is  far  more  destructive  than 
that  which  is  in  her.'  The  Interpreter  then  looked  plea- 
santly on  her,  and  said,  '  Thou  hast  said  the  truth." 
This  made  Mercy  blush,  and  the  boys  to  cover  their  fa- 
ces ;  for  they  all  began  now  to  understand  the  riddle. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  "  The  spider  taketh 
hold  with  her  hands  (as  you  see)  and  is  in  kings'  pala- 
ces." And  wherefore  is  this  recorded,  but  to  khow  you, 
that  how  full  of  the  venom  of  sin  soever  you  be,  yet  you 
may,  by  the  hand  of  faith,  lay  hold  of,  and  dwell  in,  the 
best  room  that  belongs  to  the  king's  house  above  ? 

I  thought,  said  Christiana,  of  something  of  this  ;  but 
I  could  not  imagine  it  all.  I  thought,  that  we  were 
like  piders,  and  that  we  looked  like  ugly  creatures  in 
what  fine  rooms  soever  we  were  ;  but  that  by  this  spi- 
der, this  venomous  and  ill-favored  creature,  we  were  to 
learn  how  to  act  faith,  that  came  no  into  my  thoughts; 
that  she  worketh  with  her  hands ;  and,  as  I  see,  dwells 
in  the  best  room  in  the  house.  God  has  made  nothing 
in  vain. 

Then  they  seemed  all  to  be  glad  ;  but  the  water  stood 
in  their  eyes :  yet  they  looked  one  upon  another,  and 
also  bowed  before  the  Interpreter. 

He  had  them  then  into  another  room,  where  was  a 
S  2 


210  THE    PILGIUM'S    PROGRESS. 

hen  and  chickens,  and  bid  them  observe  a  while, 
one  of  the  chickens  went  to  the  trough  to  drink,  and  ev- 
ery time  she  drank  she  lifted  up  her  head  and  her  eyes 
towards  heaven.  <  See/  said  he, '  what  this  little  chick 
doeth,  and  learn  of  her  to  acknowledge  whence  your 
mercies  come,  by  receiving  them  with  looking  up.  Yet 
again,'  said  he,  «  observe  and  look  ;'  so  they  gave  heed, 
and  perceived  that  the  hen  did  walk  in  a  fourfold  me- 
thod towards  her  chickens.  1.  She  had  a  common  call, 
and  that  she  had  all  the  day  long.  2.  She  had  a  afiecial 
call,  and  that  she  had  but  sometimes.  3.  She  had  a 
brooding  note.  '  And,  4.  She  had  an  out-cry* 

Now,  said  he,  compare  this  hen  to  your  King,  and 
these  chickens  to  his  obedient  ones.  For,  answerable 
to  her,  himself  has  his  methods,  which  he  walketh  in 
towards  his  people :  by  his  common  call  he  gives  no- 
thing ;  by  his  special  call  he  always  has  something  to 
give  .  he  has  also  a  brooding  voice  for  them  that  are 
under  his  wing ;  and  he  has  an  outcry,  to  give  the  a- 
larm  when  he  seeth  the  enemy  come.  I  choose,  my 
darlings,  to  lead  you  into  the  room  where  such  things 
are,  because  you  are  women,  and  they  are  easy  for  you. 
4  And,  sir/  said  Christiana,  'pray  let  us  see  some 
more.'  So  he  had  them  into  the  slaughter-house,  where 
"was  a  butcher  killing  of  sheep  :  and,  behold,  the  sheep 
"was  quiet,  and  took  her  death  patiently.  '  Then,'  said 
the  Interpreter,  '  you  must  leam  of  this  sheep  to  suffer, 
and  to  put  up  v  rongs  without  murmurings  and  com- 
plaints. Behold  how  quietly  she  takes  her  death,  and, 
■without  objecting:,  she  suffereth  her  skin  to  be  pulled 
over  her  ears — Your  King  doth  call  you  his  sheep.' 

After  this  he  led  them  into  his  garden,  where  was  a 
great  variety  of  flowers  :  and  he  said,  *  Do  you  see  all 
these  V  So  Christiana  said, *  Yes.'  Then  said  he  again, 
*  Behold  the  flowers  are  diverse  in  stature,  in  quality, 
and  color,  and  smell,  and  virtue  ;  and  some  are  better 
tharj  some  ;  also  where  the  gardener  hath  set  them, 
there  they  stand,  and  quarrel  not  one  with  anothei.' 

A«ain,  be  hsd  them  into  the  field,  which  he  had  sown 

"with  wheat  and  corn:  but,  when  they  beheld,  the  tops 

of    at]   were   rut  off,  oniy  the  straw  remained.       He 

said  again,  k  This  ground  was  dunged  and  plowed,  and 

*  Matt.  xxiu.  37. 


THE    PILGRIM^    PROGKE89.  211 

sowed  ;  bnt  what  shall  we  do  with  the  crop  ?  Then  said 
Christiana,  '  Burn  some,  and  make  muck  of  the  rest.' 
Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  *  Fruit,  you  see,  is  that 
thing;  you  look  for,  and  for  want  of  that  you  condemn  it 
to  the  fire,  and  to  be  trodden  under  the  foot  of  men  : 
beware  that  in  this  you  condemn  not  yourselves.'  ' 

Then,  as  they  were  coming  in  from  ;<bioad,  they  es- 
pied a  robin  with  a  great  spider  in  his  mouth ;  so  ihe 
Interpreter  said,  '  Look  here.'  So  they  looked,  and 
Mercy  wondered  ;  but  Christiana  said,  *  what  a  dispar- 
agement is  it  to  such  a  little  pretty  bird  as  the  robin- 
red  breast  is  !  he  being  also  a  bird  above  many,  that  lo- 
veth  to  maintain  a  kind  of  sociableness  with  men  :  1  had 
thought  they  had  lived  upon  crumbs  of  bread,  or  upon 
other  such  harmless  matter :  I  like  him  worse  than  I 
did.' 

The  Interpreter  then  replied,  This  robin  is  an  em- 
blem, very  apt  to  set  forth  some  professors  by  ;  for  to 
sight  they  are,  as  this  robin,  pretty  of  note,  color,  and 
carriage  ;  they  seem  also  to  have  a  very  great  love  for 
professors  that  are  sincere  ;  and  above  all  other  to  de- 
sire to  associate  with  them? and  to  be  in  their  company  ; 
as  if  they  could  live  upon  the  good  man's  crumbs. 
They  pretend  also,  that  therefore  it  is  that  they  fre- 
quent the  house  of  the  godly,  and  the  appointments  of 
the  Lord  :  but  when  they  are  by  themselves,  as  the  ro- 
bin, they  can  catch  and  gobble  up  spiders,  they  can 
change  their  diet,  drink  and  swallow  down  sin  like  water. 

So  when  they  were  come  again  to  the  house,  because 
supper  as  yet  was  not  ready,  Chrisiiana  again  desired 
that  the  Interpreter  would  cither  show  or  tell  some  oth- 
er things  that  are  profitable. 

Then  the  Interpreter  began  and  said  :  the  fatter  the 
sow  is,  the  more  she  desires  the  mire  :  the  fatter  the 
ox  is.  the  more  gamesomely  he  goes  to  the  slaughter  ; 
and  the  more  healthy  the  lusty  man  is,  the  more  prone 
is  he  unto  evil. 

There  is  a  desire  in  women  to  go  neat  and  fine,  and 
it  is  a  comely  thing  to  be  adorned  with  that  which  in 
God's  sight  is  of  g  eat  price. 

'Tis  easier  watching  a  night  or  two,  than  to  sit  up  a 
whole  year  together  :  so  'tis  easier  for  one  to  begin  to 
profess  well;  than  to  hold  out  as  he  should  to  the  end. 


212  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Every  ship-master  when  in  a  storm,  will  willingly- 
cast  that  overboard  that  is  of  the  smallest  value  in  the 
vessel :  but  who  will  throw  the  best  out  first  ?  None  but 
he  that  feareth  not  God. 

One  leak  will  sink  a  ship  ;  and  one  sin  will  destroy 
a  sinner. 

lie  that  forgets  his  friend  is  ungrateful  unto  him  : 
but  he  that  forgets  his  Saviour  is  unmerciful  to  himself. 

He  that  lives. in  sin  and  looks  for  happiness  hereafter, 
is  like  him  that  soweth  cockle,  and  thinks  to  fill  his  barn 
with  wheat  and  barley. 

If  a  man  would  live  well,  let  him  fetch  his  last  days 
to  him,  and  make  it  always  his  company-keeper. 

Whispering  and  change  of  thoughts  prove  that  sin  is 
in  the  world. 

If  the  world,  which  God  sets  light  by,  is  counted  a 
thing  of  that  worth  with  men ;  what  is  heaven,  that 
God  commendeth  ? 

If  the  life  that  is  attended  with  so  many  troubles,  is 
so  loth  to  be  let  go  by  us,  what  is  the  life  above  ? 

Every  body  will  cry  up  the  goodness  of  men  ;  but  who 
is  there,  that  is,  as  he  should  be,  affected  with  the  good- 
ness of  God  ? 

We  seldom  sit  down  to  meat,  but  we  eat  and  leave  : 
so  there  is  in  Jesus  Christ  more  merit  and  righteous- 
ness than  the  whole  world  has  need  of. 

When  the  Interpreter  had  done,  he  takes  them  out 
into  his  garden  again,  and  had  them  to  a  tree,  whose  in- 
side wa3  all  rotten  and"  gone,  and  yet  it  grew  and  had 
leaves.  Then  said  Mercy, '  What  means  this  ? — '  This 
tree,  said  he,  *  whose  outside  is  fair  and  whose  inside  is 
rotten,  is  it,  to  which  many  may  be  compared  that  are  in 
the  garden  of  God  :  who  with  their  mouths  speak  high 
in  behalf  of  God,  but  indeed  will  do  nothing  for  him  ; 
whose  leaves  are  fair,  but  their  heart  good  for  nothing, 
but  to  be  tinder  for  the  devil's  tinder-box.' 

Now  supper  was  ready,  the  table  spread,  and  all 
things  set  on  board  ;  so  they  sat  down  and  did  eat»  when- 
one  had  given  thanks.  And  the  Interpreter  did  usual- 
ly entertain  those  that  lodged  with  him,  with  music  at 
meals  ;  so  the  minstrels  played.  There  was  also  one 
that  did  sing,  and  a  very  fiae  Yoke  he  had.  His  song 
was  this— 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  213 

*  The  Lord  is  only  my  support, 

And  he  that  doth  me  teed  : 
How  can  1  want  tor  any  thing 

Whereof  I  stand  in  need  V 

When  the  song  and  music  were  ended,  the  Interpre- 
ter asked  Christiana,  what  it  was  that  at  first  did  move 
her  thus  to  betake  herself  to  a  pilgrim's  life  ?  Christiana 
answered  :  First,  the  loss  of  my  husband  came  into  my 
mind,  at  which  I  was  heartily  grieved  ;  but  all  that  was 
but  natural  affection.  Then,  after  that,  came  the  troub- 
les and  pilgrimages  of  my  husband  into  my  mind,  and 
also  how  like  a  churl  I  had  carried  it  to  him  as  to  that. 
So  guilt  took  hold  of  my  mind,  and  would  have  drawn  me 
into  the  pond  ;  but  that  opportunely  I  had  a  dream  of  the 
well-being  of  my  husband,  and  a  letter  sent  me  by  the 
king  of  that  country  where  my  husband  dwells,  to  come 
to  him.  The  dream  and  the  letter  together  so  wrought 
upon  my  mind,  that  they  forced  me  to  this  way. 

Inter.  But  met  you  with  no  opposition  before  you  set 
out  of  doors  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  a  neighbor  of  mine,  one  Mrs.  Timorous 
(she  was  kin  to  him  that  would  have  persuaded  my 
husband  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions)  she  also  so  be- 
fooled me,  for,  as  she  called  it,  my  intended  desperate 
adventure  ;  she  also  urged  what  she  could  to  dishearten 
me  from  it ;  the  hardships  and  troubles  that  my  husband 
met  with  in  the  way  :  but  all  this  I  got  over  pretty  well. 
But  a  dream  that  I  had  of  two  ill-looking  ones,  that  I 
thought  did  plot  how  to  make  me  miscarry  in  my  jour- 
ney, that  hath  troubled  me :  yea,  it  still  runs  in  my  mind, 
and  makes  me  afraid  of  every  one  that  I  meet,  lest  they 
should  meet  me  to  do  me  a  mischief,  and  to  turn  me 
out  of  my  way.  Yea,  I  may  tell  my  Lord,  though  I 
would  not  have  every  body  to  knew  it,  that  between  this 
and  the  gate  by  which  we  got  into  the  way,  we  were 
both  so  sorely  assaulted,  that  we  were  made  to  cry  out 
murder  ;  and  the  two  that  made  this  assault  upon  us, 
were  like  the  two  that  I  saw  in  my  dream 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  *  Thy  beginning  is  good, 
thy  latter  end  shall  greatly  increase.'  So  he  addressed 
him  to  Mercy,  and  said  unto  her,  *  And  what  mpved 
thee  to  come  hither,  sweetheart  ? 


2J4 

Then  Mercy  blushed  and  trembled,  ?nd  for  a  while 
continued  silent. 

Then  said  he,  Be  not  afraid,  only  believe,  and  speak 
thy  mind. 

Then  she  began,  and  said,  Truly,  Sir,  my  want  of  ex- 
perience is  that  which  makes  me  covet  to  be  in  silence, 
and  that  also  that  fillet  h  me  with  fears  of  coming  short 
at  last.  I  cannot  tell  of  visions  and  dreams,  as  my 
friend  Christiana  can  :  nor  know  I  what  it  is  to  mourn 
for  my  refusing  of  the  counsel  of  those  that  were  good 
relations. 

Inter.  What  was  it  then,  dear  heart,  that  hath  pre- 
vailed with  thee  to  do  as  thou  hast  done  ? 

JSicraj.  Why  when  our  friend  here  was  packing  up  to 
be  gone  from  our  town,  I  and  another  went  accidentally 
to  see  her.  So  we  knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in. 
When  we  were  within,  and  seeing  what  she  was  doing, 
we  asked  her  what  she  meant  ?  She  said  she  was  hent 
for  to  go  to  her  husband ;  and  then  she  up  and  told  us 
how  she  had  seen  him  in  a  dream,  dwelling  in  a  curi- 
ous place,  among  immortals,  wearing  a  crown,  playing 
upon  a  harp,  eating  and  drinking  at  his  prince's  table, 
and  singing  praises  to  him  for  the  bringing  him  thither, 
Sec.  Now  methought  while  she  was  telling  th^se  things 
unto  us,  my  heart  burned  within  me.  And  I  said  in  my 
heart,  If  this  be  true,  I  will  leave  my  father  and  my  mo- 
ther, and  the  land  of  rcy  nativity,  and  will,  if  I  may,  go 
along  with  Christiana. 

So  I  asked  her  further  of  the  truth  of  these  things, 
and  if  she  would  let  me  go  with  her ;  for  I  saw  now,  that 
there  was  no  dwelling,  but  with  the  danger  of  ruin,  any 
longer  in  our  town.  But  yet  I  came  away  with  a  heavy 
heart ;  no.  for  that  I  was  unwilling  to  come  away,  but 
for  that  so  many  of  my  relations  were  left  behind.  And 
I  am  come  with  all  rny  heart,  and  will,  if  I  may,  go 
with  Christiana-  to  her  husband  and  his  king. 

Inter.  Thy  setting  out  is  £ood,  for  thou  hast  given 
credit  to  the  truth  ;  thou  art  Ruth,  who  did,  for  the  love 
she  bare  to  Naomi,  and  to  the  Lord  her  God,  leave  fa- 
ther and  mother,  and  the  land  of  her  nativity,  to  come 
our  and  go  with  a  people  that  she  knew  not  before. 
"  The  Lord  recompense  thy  work,  and  a  full  reward  be 


21a 

given  thee  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  under  whose  wings 
thou  art  come  to  trust."* 

Now  supper  was  ended  and  preparation  was  made 
for  bed  :  the  women  were  laid  singly  alone,  and  the 
boys  by  themselves.  Now  when  Mercy  was  in  bed,  she 
could  not  sleep  for  joy,  for  that  now  her  doubts  of  mis- 
sing at  last  were  removed  further  from  her  than  ever 
they  were  before.  So  she  lay  blessing  and  praising 
God,  who  had  such  favor  for  her. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  with  the  sun,  and  prepared 
themselves  for  their  departure;  but  the  Interpreter  would 
have  them  tarry  awhile ; { for,'  said  he, •  you  must  orderly 
go  from  hence.'  Then  sai  d  he  to  the  damsel  that  first  o- 
pened  unto  them,  *  Take  them  and  have  them  into  ihe 
garden  to  the  Bath&nCL  there  wash  them  and  make  them 
clean  from  the  soil,  which  they  have  gathered  by  travel- 
ling.' Then  Innocent  the  damsel  took  them,  and  led  them 
into  the  garden,  and  brought  them  to  the  Bath  ;  so  she 
told  them,  that  there  they  must  wash  and  be  clean,  for 
so  her  Master  would  have  the  women  to  do,  that  called 
at  his  house  as  they  were  going  on  pilgrimage.  Then 
they  went  in  and  washed,  yea,  they  and  the  boys  and  all ; 
and  they  came  out  of  that  bath  not  only  sweet  and  clean, 
but  also  much  enlivened  and  strengthened  in  their 
joints.  So  when  they  came  in,  they  iooked  fairer  a  deal 
than  when  they  went  out  to  the  washing. 

When  they  were  returned  out  of  the  garden  from  the 
Bath,  the  Interpreter  took  them,  and  looked  upon  them, 
and  said  unto  them,  "  Fair  as  the  moon."  Then  he  cal- 
led for  the  Seal,  wherewith  they  used  to  be  sealed  that 
were  washed  in  his  Bath.  So  the  Seal  was  brought,  and 
he  set  his  mark  upon  them,  that  they  might  be  known 
in  the  places  whither  they  were  yet  to  go.  Now  the  Seal 
was  the  contents  and  sum  of  the  passover  which  the 
children  of  Israel  did  eat  when  they  came  out  of  the  land 
of  Egypt  ;f  and  the  mark  was  set  between  their  eyee. 
This  Seal  greatly  added:  their  beauty,  for  it  was  an 
ornament  to  their  faces.  T  also  added  to  their  gravity, 
and  made  their  countenances  more  like  them  of  angels. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again  to  the  damsel  that 
waited  upon  the  women, '  Go  into  the  vestry,  and  fetch 

Ruth  ii.  11,  12.  f  Exod.  xiii.  8—10. 


216  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

out  garments  for  these  people.'  So  she  went  and  fetched 
out  white  raiment,  and  laid  it  down  before  him  :  so  he 
commanded  them  to  put  it  on  :  it  was  *  fine  linen,  white 
and  clean.'  When  the  women  were  thus  adorned,  they 
seemed  to  be  a  terror  one  to  the  other  ;  for  that  they 
oould  not  see  that  glory  each  one  in  herself,  which  they 
<;ould  see  in  each  other.  Now  therefore  they  began  to 
esteem  each  other  better  than  themselves.  *  For  you 
are  fairer  than  I  am,'  said  one  ;  and,  'You  are  more'come- 
ly  than  I  am,'  said  another.  The  children  also  stood 
amazed,  to  see  into  what  fashion  they  were  brought. 

The  Interpreter  then  called  for  a  man  servant  of  his, 
one  Great-Heart,  and  bid  him  take  a  sword,  and  helmet, 
and  shield ;  '  and  take  these  my  daughters,'  said  he, 
*  conduct  them  to  the  house  called  Beautiful,  at  which 
place  they  will  rest  next.'  So  he  took  his  weapons,  and 
went  before  them;  and  the  Interpreter  said,  ( God 
speed.'  Those  also  that  belonged  to  the  family  sent 
them  away  with  many  a  good  wish.  So  they  went  on 
their  way  and  sang — 

*  This  place  has  been  our  second  stage, 

Here  we  have  heard  and  seen 
Those  good  things  that  from  age  to  age 

To  others  hid  have  been. 
The  dung-hill  raker,  spider,  hen, 

The  chicken  too,  to  me 
Hath  taught  a  lesson  ;  let  me  then 

Conformed  to  it  be. 
The  butcher,  garden  and  the  field, 

The  robin  and  his  bait, 
Also  the  rotten  tree  doth  yield 

Me  argument  of  weight  : 
To  move  me  for  to  watch  and  pray, 

To  strive  to  be  sincere ; 
To  take  my  cross  up  day  by  day. 
And  serve  the  Lord  with  fear/ 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream^  that  those  went  on,  and 
Great-Heart  before  them ;  so  they  went  and  came  to  the 
place  where  Christian's  burden  fell  off  his  back,  and 
tumbled  into  a  sepulchre.  Here  then  they  made  a 
pause  ;  here  also  they  blessed  God.  Now,  said  Chris- 
tiana, it  comes  into  my  mind  what  was  said  to  us  at  the 
gate,  to  wit,  that  we  should  have  pardon  by  word  and 
deed;  by  word,  that  is,  by  the  promise f  by  deed>  to  wit. 


*flE    PILGRIM'S    PR0GRE9S.  217 

a  he  way  it  was  obtained.  What  the  promise  is,  of 
that  I  know  something  :  but  what  it  is  to  have  pardon 
by  deed,  or  in  the  way  that  it  was  obtained,  Mr.  Great- 
Heart,  I  suppose  you  know  ;  which,  if  you  please,  let 
us  hear  your  discourse  thereof. 

Gr.~h.  Pardon  by  the  deed  done,  is  pardon  obtained 
by  some  one,  for  another  that  hath  need  thereof :  not 
by  the  person  pardoned,  but  in  '  the  way/  saith  anoth- 
er, in  which  I  have  obtained  it.' — So  then  (to  speak  to 
i he  questions  more  at  large,)  the  pardon  that  you,  and 
Mercy,  and  these  boys  have  attained  by  another,  to  wit, 
by  him  that  let  you  in  at  the  gate  :  and  he  hath  obtained 
it  in  this  double  way  :  he  hath  performed  righteousness 
lo  cover  you,  and  spilt  blood  to  wash  you  in. 

Chr.  But  if  he  parts  with  his  righteousness  to  us, 
what  will  he  have  for  himself  ? 

Gr.-h.  He  has  more  righteousness  than  you  haVe 
need  of,  or  than  he  needeth  himself. 

Chr.  Pray  make  that  appear. 

Gr.-h,  With  all  my  heart  :  but  first  I  must  premise, 
that  he  of  whom  we  are  now  about  to  speak,  is  one  that 
has  not  his  fellow.  He  has  two  natures  in  one  person, 
plain  to  be  distinguished,  impossible  to  be  divided.  Un-« 
to  each  of  these  natures  a  righteousness  belongeth,  and 
each  righteousness  is  essential  to  that  nature.  So  that 
one  may  as  easily  cause  the  natures  to  be  extinct,  as  to 
separate  its  justice  or  righteousness  from  it.  Of  these 
righteousnesses,  therefore,  we  are  not  made  partakers, 
so  that  they,  or  any  of  them,  should  be  put  upon  us,  that 
we  might  be  made  just,  and  live  thereby.  Besides 
these,  there  is  righteousness  which  this  Person  has,  as 
these  two  natures  are  joined  in  one.  And  this  is  not  the 
righteousness  of  the  Godhead,  as  distinguished  from  the 
manhood  ;  nor  the  righteousness  of  the  manhood,  as 
distinguished  from  the  Godhead ;  but  a  righteousness 
which  standeth  in  the  union  of  both  natures,  and  may 
properly  be  called  the  righteousness  that  is  essential  to 
his  being  prepared  of  God  to  the  capacity  of  the  media- 
tory office,  which  he  was  entrusted  with.  If  he  parts 
with  his  first  righteousness,  he  parts  with  his  Godhead; 
f  he  parts  with  his  second  righteousness,  he  parts  with 
he  purity  of  his  manhood :  if  he  parts  with  his  third, 

T 


218  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

he  parts  with  that  perfection  which  capacitates  him  to 
the  office  of  mediation.  He  has  therefore  another 
rtghteousness,  which  standeth  in  performance,  or  obe- 
dience to  a  revealed  will :  and  that  is  what  he  puts  upon 
sinners,  and,  that  by  which  their  sins  are  covered. 
Wherefore  he  saith,  "As  by  one  man's  disobedience, 
many  were  made  sinners  :  so  by  the  obedience  of  one, 
shall  many  be  made  righteous."* 

Chr.  But  are  the  other  righteousnesses  of  no  use  to  us  ? 

Gr.-h.  Yes  :  for  though  they  are  essential  to  his  na- 
tures and  office,  and  cannot  be  communicated  unto  ano- 
ther, yet  it  is  by  virtue  of  them  that  the  righteousness 
that  justifies  is  for  that  purpose  efficacious.  The  right- 
eousness of  his  Godhead  gives  virtue  to  his  obedience; 
the  righteousness  cf  his  manhood  giveth  capability  to  his 
obedience  to  justify  ;  and  the  righteousness  that  stand- 
eth in  the  union  of  these  two  natures  to  his  (  ffice,  giveth 
authority  to  that  righteousness  to  do  the  work  for 
which  it  was  ordained. 

So  then  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God, 
has  no  need  of;  for  he  is  God  without  it :  here  is  a  righ- 
teousness that  Christ,  as  man,  has  no  need  of  to  make 
him  so,  for  he  is  perfect  man  without  it :  again,  here  is 
a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God-man,  has  no  need 
of,  for  he  is  perfectly  so  without  it.  Here  then  is  a 
righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  and  as  God-man,  has 
no  need  of,  with  reference  to  himself,  and  therefore  he 
can  spare  it :  a  justifying  righteousness,  that  he  for 
himself  wanteth  not,  and  therefore  giveth  it  away. 
Hence  it  is  called  "  the  gift  of  righteousness."! — This 
righteousness,  since  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  has  made 
himself  under  the  law,  must  be  given  away  ;  for  the  law 
doth  not  only  bind  him  that  is  under  it,  to  do  justly,  but 
to  use  charity.  Wherefore  he  must,  or  ought  by  the 
law,  if  he  hath  two  coats,  to  give  one  to  him  that  has 
none.  Now  our  Lord  indeed  hath  two  coats,  one  for 
himself  and  one  to  spare  :  wherefore  he  freely  bestows 
one  upon  those  that  have  none.  And  thus,  Christiana 
and  Mercy,  and  the  rest  of  you  that  are  here,  doth  your 
pardon  come  by  deed,  or  by  the  work  of  another  man  ? 
Your  Lord  Christ  is  he  that  worketh,  and  hath  given 

"Rom.  v.  19.  fRom.  v.  17 


PROGRESS.  219 

away  what  he  -wrought  for,  to  the  next  poor  beggar  he 
meets. 

But  again  in  order  to  pardon  by  deed,  there  must 
something  be  paid  to  God  as  a  price  as  well  as  some- 
thing prepared  to  cover  us  withal.  Sin  has  delivered 
us  up  to  the  just  curse  of  a  righteous  law  :  now  from 
this  curse  we  must  be  justified  by  way  of  redemption, 
a  price  being  paid  for  the  harms  we  have  done  ;  and 
this  is  by  the  blood  of  your  Lord,  who  came  and  stood 
in  your  place  and  stead,  and  died  your  death  for  your 
transgressions.  Thus  has  he  ransomed  you  from  your 
transgressions  by  blood,  and  covered  your  polluted 
and  deformed  souls  with  righteousness  ;*  for  the  sake 
of  which,  God  passeth  by  you,  and  will  not  hurt  you, 
when  he  comes  to  judge  the  world. 

Chr.  This  is  brave  :  now  I  see  that  there  was  some- 
thing to  be  learned  by  our  being  pardoned  by  word  and 
deed.  Good  Mercy,  let  us  labor  to  keep  this  in  mind  ; 
and  my  children,  do  you  remember  it  also. — But,  Sir, 
was  not  this  it  that  made  my  good  Christian's  burden 
fall  from  off  his  shoulder,  and  that  made  him  give  three 
leaps  for  joy  ? 

Gr.-h.  Yes,  it  was  the  beliet  of  this  that  cut  off  those 
strings,  that  could  not  be  cut  by  other  means  ;  and  it 
was  to  give  him  a  proof  of  the  virtue  of  this,  that  he 
was  suffered  to  carry  his  burden  to  the  cross. 

Chr.  I  thought  so ;  for  though  my  heart  was  lightful 
and  joyous  before,  yet  it  is  ten  times  more  lightsome 
and  joyous  now.  And  I  am  persuaded  by  what  I  have 
felt  (though  I  have  felt  but  little  as  yet)  that  if  the  most 
burdened  man  in  the  world  was  here,  and  did  see  and 
believe  as  I  now  do,  it  would  make  his  hearc  the  more 
merry  and  blithe. 

-  Gr.-h.  There  is  not  only  one  comfort,  and  the  ease 
of  a  burden  brought  to  us,  by  the  sight  and  considera- 
tion of  these,  but  an  endeared  affection  begot  in  us  by 
it :  for  who  can,  (if  he  does  but  once  think  that  pardon 
comes  not  only  by  promise  but  thus)  but  be  affected 
with  the  way  and  means  of  redemption,  and  so  with  the 
man  that  hath  wrought  it  for  him  ? 

*  Rom.  viii.  34.    Gal.  iii.  13. 


220  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

Chr.  True  :  methinks  it  makes  my  heart  bleed  to 
think  that  he  should  bleed  for  me.  Oh  !  thou  loving 
one !  Oh  !  thou  blessed  One  !  Thou  deservest  to  have 
me ;  thou  hast  bought  me  ;  thou  deservest  to  have  me 
all ;  thou  hast  paid  for  me  ten  thousand  times  more  than 
I  am  worth ! — No  marvel  that  this  made  the  water 
stand  in  my  husband's  eyes,  and  that  it  made  him 
trudge  so  nimbly  on  ;  I  am  persuaded  he  wished  ine 
with  him  ;  but,  vile  wretch  that  I  was  !  1  let  him  come 
all  alone.  O  Mercy,  that  thy  father  and  mother  were 
here  ;  yea,  and  Mrs.  Timorous  also  :  nay,  I  wish  now 
with  all  my  heart,  that  here  was  madam  Wanton  too. 
Surely,  surely,  their  hearts  would  be  affected  ;  nor 
could  the  fear  of  the  one,  nor  the  powerful  lusts  of  the 
©ther,  prevail  with  them  to  go  home  again  and  refuse 
to  become  good  pilgrims. 

Gr.-h.  You  speak  now  in  the  warmth  of  your  affec- 
tions :  will  it,  think  yo^be  always  thus  with  you  ?  Be- 
sides, that  is  net  communicated  to  every  one,  nor  to  ev- 
ery one  that  did  see  your  Jesus  bleed.  There  were  that 
stood  by,  and  that  saw  the  blood  run  from  the  heart  to  the 
ground,  and  yet  were  so  far  offthii,  that,  instead  of  la- 
menting^ they  laughed  at  him  ;  and,  instead  of  becoming 
his  disciples,  did  harden  their  hearts  against  him.  So 
that  all  that  vou  have,  my  daughters,  you  have  by  pecu- 
liar impression,  made  by  a  divine  contemplatine-  unorj 
^«at  I  n«Vc  spoken  to  you.  Kemember  that  it  was  told 
you,  that  the  hen,  by  her  common  call,  gives  no  meat  to 
her  chickens.  This  you  have  therefore  by  a  special  grace. 

Now  I  saw  still  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  until 
they  were  come  to  the  place  that  Simple,  and  Sloth,  and 
Presumption,  lay  and  slept  in,  when  Christian  went  by 
on  pilgrimage  :  and,  behold  they  were  hanged  up  in  i- 
rons  a  little  way  off  on  the  other  side. 

Then  said  Mercy  to  him  that  was  their  guide  and 
conductor,  *  What  are  these  three  men  ?  and  for  what 
are  they  hanged  there  V 

Gr.-h.  These  three  men  were  men  of  bad  qualities  ; 
they  had  no  mind  to  be  pilgrims  themselves,  and  whom- 
soever they  could  they  hindered  :  they. were  for  sloth 
and  folly  themselves,  and  whomsoever  they  could  per- 
suade, they  made  so  too  ;  and  withal  taught  them  to 
resume  that  tbey  should  do  well  at  last.    They  were 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  22] 

asleep  when  Christian  "went  by  ;  and  now  you  go  by 
they  are  hanged. 

Mer.  Bat  could  they  persuade  any  one  to  be  of  their 
opinion  ? 

Gr.-h-  Yes,  they  turned  several  out  of  the  way. 
There  was  Slow- pace,  they  persuaded  to  do  as  they. 
They  also  prevailed  with  one  Short-wind,  with  one  No- 
heart,  with  one  Linger-after-lust,  and  with  one  Sleepy- 
head, and  wi.h  a  young  woman,  her  name  was  Dull,  to 
turn  out  of  the  way  and  become  as  they.  Besides,  they 
brought  up  an  ill  report  of  your  Lord,  persuading  oth- 
ers that  he  was  a  hard  task  master.  They  also  brought 
up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land,  saying  it  was  not  half 
so  good  as  some  pretended  it  was.  They  also  began 
to  vilify  his  servants,  and  to  count  the  best  of  them  med- 
dlesome, troublesome,  busy-bodies  :  further  they  would 
call  the  bread  of  God,  husks :  the  comforts  of  his  chil- 
dren, fancies ;  the  travail  and  labor  of  pilgrims  things 
to  no  purpose. 

Nay,  said  Christiana,  if  they  were  such  they  should 
never  be  bewailed  by  me  :  they  have  but  what  they  de- 
serve ;  and  I  think  it  well  that  they  stand  so  near  the 
highway,  that  others  may  see  and  take  warning.  But  had 
it  not  been  well  if  their  crimes  had  been  engraven  on 
some  pillar  of  iron  or  brass,  and  left  here  where  they 
did  their  mischiefs,  for  a  caution  to  other  bad  men  ? 

Gr.-h.  So  it  is,  as  you  may  well  perceive,  if  you  will 
go  a  little  to  the  wall  ? 

Mer.  No,  no  ;  let  them  hang,  and  their  names  rot, 
and  their  crimes  live  for  ever  against  them  ;  I  think  it 
is  a  high  favor  that  they  are  hanged  before  we  came 
hither  ;  who  knows  else  what  they  might  have  done  to 
such  poor  women  as  we  are  ?  Then  she  turned  it  into  a 
song,  saying— 

*  Now  then  yon  three  hang  there  and  be  a  sign 
To  all  that  shall  against  the  truth  combine. 
And  let  him  that  comes  after  fear  this  end, 
If  unto  pilgrims  he  is  not  a  frieud. 
And  thou,  my  souT,  of  all  such  men  beware, 
That  unto  holiness  opposers  are.' 

Thus  they  went  on,  till  they  came  at  the  foot  of  the 
bill  Difficulty,  where  again  their  good  friend  Mr,  Great* 
T2 


222  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

heart  took  an  occasion  to  tell  them  what  happened  there 
when  Christian  himself  went  up.  So  he  had  them  first 
to  the  spring ;  Lo  saith  he,  this  is  the  spring  that  Chris- 
tian drank  of  befoie  he  went  up  this  hill  ;  and  then  it 
was  clear  and  good,  but  now  it  is  dirty  with  the  feet  of 
some  that  are  not  desirous  that  pilgrims  here  should 
quench  their  thirst.*  Thereat  Mercy  said,  And  why 
so  envious,  trow  ?  But  said  the  guide,  It  will  do,  if  ta- 
ken up  and  put  into  a  vessel  that  is  sweet  and  good  ; 
for  then  the  dirt  will  sink  to  the  bottom,  and  the  water 
come  out  by  itself  more  clear.  Thus  therefore  Chris- 
tiana and  her  companions  were  compelled  to  do.  They 
took  it  up,  and  put  it  into  an  earthen  pot,  and  so  let  it 
stand  till  the  dirt  was  gone  to  the  bottom,  and  then  they 
drank  thereof. 

Next  he  showed  them  the  two  by-ways  that  were  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  lost 
themselves.  And,  said  he,  these  are  dangerous  paths  : 
two  were  here  cast  away  which  Christian  came  by. 
And  although  you  see  these  wdys  since  are  stopped  up 
with  chains,  posts,  and  a  ditch,  yet  there  are  they  that 
will  choose  to  adventure  here,  rather  than  take  the 
•pains  to  go  up  this  hill. 

Chr.  "  The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard  :"f  it  is  a 
wonder  that  they  can  get  into  those  ways  without  dan- 
ger of  breaking  their  necks. 

Gr.-h.  They  will  venture  ;  yea,  if  at  any  time  any  of 
the  king's  servants  do  happen  to  see  them,  and  doth 
call  upon  them  and  tell  them,  that  they  are  in  the  wrong 
ways,  and  do  bid  them  beware  of  the  danger,  then  they 
railingly  return  them  answer,  and  say,  rt  As  for  the  word 
♦hat  thou  hast  spoken  unto  us  in  the  name  of  the  King, 
we  will  not  hearken  unto  thee  ;  but  we  will  certainly 
do  whatsoever  thing  goeth  out  of  our  mouths.,J|  Nay, 
if  you  look  a  little  further,  you  shall  see  that  these  ways 
are  made  cautionary  enough,  not  only  by  these  posts, 
and  ditch,  and  chain,  but  also  by  being  hedged  up  ;  yet 
they  will  choose  to  go  there. 

Chr.  They  are  idle  :  they  love  not  to  take  pains :  up- 
hill way  is  unpleasant  to  them.  So  it  is  fulfilled  unto 
them  as  it  is  written.—"  The  way  of  the  slothful  man 

*  Saek,  Miir,  18.    fProv,  stii.  15.     J  Jer.  ilfcr.  1«>  HT. 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  223 

£3  an  hedge  of  thorns.1'*  Yea,  they  will  rather  choose 
to  walk  upon  a  snare,  than  to  go  up  this  hill,  and  the 
rest  offchis  way  to  the  city. 

Then  they  set  forward  and  began  to  go  up  the  hill, 
and  up  the  hill  they  went ;  but  befoi  e  they  got  up  to 
the  top,  Christiana  began  to  pant,  and  said,  1  dare  say 
this  is  a  breathing  hill  f  no  marvel  if  they  that  love 
their  ease  more  than  their  souls  choose  to  themselves  a 
smoother  way.  Then  said  Mercy,  I  must  sit  down  ;  al- 
so the  least  of  the  children  began  to  cry  :  Come,  come, 
said  Grd&c-heart,  sit  not  down  here,  for  a  little  above  is 
the  Prince's  arbor.  Then  he  took  the  little  boy  by  the 
hand,  and  led  him  thereto. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  arbor,  they  were  very 
willing  to  sit  down,  for  they  were  all  in  a  pelting  heat. 
Then  said  Mercy,  How  sweet  is  rest  to  them  that  la- 
bor !f  and  how  good  is  the  prince  of  pilgrims,  to  pro- 
vide such  resting  places  for  them  !  Of  this  arbor  I  have 
heard  much  ;  but  I  never  saw  it.  belcre.  But  here  let 
us  beware  of  sleeping  :  for  as  I  have  heard,  for  that  it 
cost  poor  Christian  dear. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  the  little  ones,  Come, 
my  pretty  boys,  how  do  you  do  ?  What  think  you  now 
of  going  on  pilgrimage  ?  Sir,  said  the  least,  I  was  al- 
most beat  out  of  heart :  but  I  thank  you  for  lending  me 
a  hand  at  my  need.  And  I  remember  now  that  my  mo- 
ther hath  told  me,  namely,  that  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  a 
ladder,  and  the  way  to  hell  is  down  a  hill.  But  I  had  ra- 
ther go  up  the  ladder  to  life,  than  down  the  hill  to  death, 

Then  said  Mercy,  But  the  proverb  is,  To  go  down 
4he  hill  is  easy  :  but  James  said  (for  that  was  his  name) 
The  day  is  coming,  when,  in  my  opinion,  going  down 
the  hill  will  be  the  hardest  of  all.  'Tis  a  good  boy,  said 
his  master  ;  thou  hast  given  her  a  right  answer.  Then 
Mercy  smiled,  but  the  little  boy  did  blush. 

Come,  said  Christiana,  will  you  eat  a  bit  to  sweeten 
your  mouths,  while  you  sit  here  to  rest  your  legs  ? 
For  I  have  here  a  piece  of  pomegranate,  which  Mr.  In- 
terpreter put  into  my  hand  just  when  I  came  out  of  his 
doors  ;  he  gave  me  also  a  piece  of  an  honey-comb,  and 
a  little  bottle  of  spirits.  *  I  thought  he  gave  you  some- 
*  Prov.  xv.  19.  f  Matt.  si.  28, 


224  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

thing/  said  Mercy,  because  he  called  you  aside.' «  Yes, 
so  he  did,  said  the  other. '  But,'  said  Christiana, i  it  shall 
be  still  as  1  said  it  should,  when  at  first  we  came  from 
home  ;  thou  shalt  be  a  sharer  m  ail  the  good  that  I 
have,  because  thou  didst  so  willingly  become  my  com- 
panion.' The:i  she  gave  to  them,  and  they  did  eat,  both 
Mercy  and  the  boys.  And  said  Christiana  to  Mr. 
Great-heart,  '  Sir,  will  you  do  as  we  ?  But  he  answered, 
You  arc  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  presently  I  shall  re- 
turn :  much  good  may  what  you  have  do  to  you.  At 
home  I  eat  the  same  every  day.'  '  Now  when  they  had 
eaten  and  drank,  and  had  chatted  a  little  longer,  their 
guide  said  to  them,  « The  day  wears  away ;  if  thou 
think  good,  let  us  prepare  to  be  going.'  So  they  got 
up  to  go,  and  the  little  boys  went  before  :  but  Christia- 
na forgot  to  take  her  bottle  of  spirits  with  her  j  so  she 
sent  her  little  boy  back  to  fetch  it.  Then  said  Mercy, 
4  I  think  this  is  a  losing  place.'  Here  '  Christian  lost  his 
roll ;  and  here  Christiana  left  her  bottle  behind  her;  Sir, 
what  is  the  cause  of  this  ?'  So  their  guide  made  answer, 
and  said, '  The  cause  is  sleep  or  forgetfulness  :  some 
?leep  when  they  should  be  awake  ;  and  some  forget 
when  they  should  remember;  and  this  is  the  very  cause, 
why  often  at  the  resting-places  some  pilgrims  in  some 
things  come  off  losers.  Pilgrims  Bhould  watch  and 
remember  what  they  have  already  received  under  grea- 
test enjoyments ;  but  for  want  of  doing  so,  oftentimes 
their  rejoicing  ends  in  tears,  and  their  sunshine  in  a 
cloud  : — witness  the  story  of  Christian  at  this  place.' 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  Mistrust 
and  Timorous  met  Christian  to  persuade  him  to  go 
back  for  fear  ol  the  lions,  they  perceived  as  it  were  a 
;  tage,  and  before  it,  towards  the  road,  a  broad  place, 
with  a  copy  of  verses  written  thereon,  and  underneath, 
the  reason  of  raising  up  of  that  stage  in  that  place  ren- 
dered.    The  verses  were — 

*  Let  him  that  sees  that  stage  take  heed 

Upon  his  heart  and  tongue : 
Lest  if  he  do  not  here  he  speed 

As  some  have  long  agone.' 

The  words  underneath  the  verses  were,  *  This  stage 
was  built  to  punish  such  upon,  who,  through  timorous- 


225 

ness  or  mistrust,  shall  be  afraid  to  go  further  on  pilgri- 
mage :  also  on  this  stage  both  Mistrust  and  Timorous 
were  burnt  through  the  tongue  with  a  hot  iron,  for  en- 
deavoring to  hinder  Christian  on  his  journey. 

Then  said  Mercy,  This  is  much  like  to  the  saying  of 
the  Beloved,  "  What  shall  be  given  unto  thee  ;  or 
what  shall  be  done  unto  thee,  thou  false  tongue  ?  sharp 
arrows  of  the  mighty,  with  coals  of  the  juniper."* 

So  they  went  on  till  they  came  within  sight  of  the 
lions.  Now  Mr.  Great-heart  was  a  strong  man,  so  he 
was  not  afraid  of  a  lion  :  but  yet  when  they  were  come 
up  to  the  place  where  the  lions  were,  the  boys  that  went 
before  were  glad  to  cringe  behind,  for  they  were  afraid 
of  the  lions  ;  so  they  stept  back  and  went  behind.  At 
this  their  guide  smiled,  and  said, i  How  now,  my  boys  ; 
do  you  love  to  go  before  when  no  danger  doth  approach, 
and  love  to  come  behind  so  soon  as  the  lions  appear  V 

Now  as  they  went  on,  Mr.  Great-heart  drew  his 
sword  with  intent  to  make  way  for  the  pilgrims  in  spite 
of  the  lions.  Then  there  appeared  one,  that  it  seems 
had  taken  upon  him  to  back  the  lions  ;  and  he  said  to 
the  pilgrim's  guide,  '  What  is  the  cause  of  your  com- 
ing hither  V  Now  the  name  of  that  man  was  Grim,  or 
Bloody-man,  because  of  his  slaying  cf  pilgrims;  and 
he  was  of  the  race  of  the  giants. 

Tucu  s-^ivl  u»a  jyilgriffijr  guiut;  These  women  and 
children  are  going  on  pilgrimage  ;  and  this  is  the  way 
they  must  go,  and  go  it  they  shall,  in  spite  cf  thee  and 
the  lions. 

Grim.  This  is  not  their  way,  neither  shall  they  go 
therein.  I  am  come  forth  to  withstand  them,  and  to  that 
end  will  back  the  lions. 

Now,  to  say  the  truth,  by  reason  of  the  fierceness  of 
the  lions,  and  of  the  grim  carriage  of  him  that  did  back 
them,  this  way  had  of  late  lain  much  unoccupied,  and 
was  almost  all  growji  over  with  grass. 

Then  said  Christiana,  Though  the  highways  have 
been  unoccupied  heretofore,  and  though  the  travellers 
have  been  made  in  times  past  to  walk  through  by-paths, 
it  must  not  be  so  now  I  am  risen  ;  "  Now  I  am  risen  a 
mother  in  Israel."! 

*  Ps.  czx.  3,  i.  f  Judg.  v.  6,  7. 


226  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Then  he  swore  by  the  lions,  but  it  should  :  and 
therefore  b'd  them  turn  aside,  fjr  they  should  not  have 
passage  there.  But  their  guide  made  first  his  approach 
unto  Grim,  and  laid  so  heavily  on  him  with  hi*  sword, 
that  he  forced  him  to  retreat. 

Then  said  he  that  attempted  to  back  the  lions,  *  Will 
you  slay  me  upon  mine  own  ground  .'' 

Gr.-h.  It  is  the  King's  highway  that  we  are  in,  and  in 
this  way  it  is  that  thou  hast  placed  ths,  lions;  but  these 
women  and  these  children,  though  weak,  shall  hold  on 
their  way  in  spite  of  the  lions. — And  with  that  he  gave 
him  again  a  downright  blow,  and  brought  him  upon  his 
knees.  With  this  blow  he  also  broke  his  helmet,  and 
with  the  next  cut  off  an  arm.  Then  did  the  giant  roar 
so  hideously,  that  his  voice  frighted  the  women  ;  and 
yet  they  were  glad  to  see  him  lie  sprawling  upon  the 
ground.  Now  the  lions  were  chained,  and  so  of  them- 
selves could  do  nothing.  Wherefore,  when  old  Gtim 
that  intended  to  back  them,  was  dead,  Great-heart  said 
to  the  Pilgrims,  <  Come  now,  and  follow  me,  and  no 
hurt  shall  happen  to  you  from  the  lions.'  They  there- 
fore went  on,  but  the  women  trembled  as  they  passed 
by  them ;  the  boys  also  looked  as  if  they  would  die, 
but  they  all  got  by  without  further  hurt. 

Now,  when  they  were  within  sight  of-the  porter's 
lodge,  they  soon  came  up  unto  it  ;  but  they  made  the 
more  haste  after  this  to  go  thither,  because  it  is  danger- 
ous travelling  there  in  the  night.  So  when  they  were 
come  to  the  gate,  the  guide  knocked,  and  the  porter 
cried,  «  Who  is  there  V  But  as  soon  as  the  guide  had 
said,  4  It  is  1/  he  knew  his  voice,  and  came  down  (for 
the  guide  had  oft  before  that  come  thither  as  a  conduc- 
tor of  pilgrims.)  When  he  was  come  down,  he  open- 
ed the  gate,  and,  seeing  the  guide  standing  just  before 
it  (for  he  saw  not  the  women,  for  they  were  behind 
him)  he  said  unto  him,  How  now,  Mr.  Great-heart, 
what  is  your  business  here  so*' late  at  night?  '  I  have 
brought/  s-id  he,  c  some  pilgrims  hither,  where,  by  my 
Lord's  commandment  they  must  lodge  :  J  had  been 
here  some  time  ago,  had  I  not  been  opposed  by  the  gi- 
ant that  used  to  back  the  lions.  But  I,  after  a  long  and 
tedious  combat  with  him,  have  cut  him  off,  and  have 
brought  the  pilgrims  hither  in  safety.' 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PH0GRES9.  "2*27 

Par.  Will  not  you  go  in  and  stay  till  morning  ? 

Gr.-h.  No,  I  will  return  to  my  Lord  to-night  ? 

Chr.  Oh,  Sir,  I  know  not  how  to  be  willing  you  should 
leave  us  in  our  pilgrimage  :  you  have  been  so  faithful 
and  so  loving  to  us,  you  have  fought  so  stoutly  for 
us.  you  have  been  so  hearty  in  counselling  of  us,  that  I 
shall  never  forget  your  favor  towards  us. 

Then  said  Mercy,  Oh  that  we  might  have  thy  com- 
pany to  our  journey's  end  !  How  can  such  poor  women 
as  we  hold  out  in  a  way  so  full  of  troubles  as  this  way 
is,  without  a  friend  or  defender  ? 

Then  said  James,  the  youngest  of  the  boys,  Pray, 
Sir,  be  persuaded  to  go  with  us,  and  help  us  because 
we  are  so  weak,  and  the  way  so  dangerous  as  it  is. 

Gr.-h.  I  am  at  my  Lord's  commandment :  if  he  shall 
allot  me  to  be  your  guide  quite  through,  I  will  willing- 
ly wait  upon  you.  But  here  you  failed  at  first;  for 
when  he  bid  me  come  thus  fai  with  you,  then  you 
should  have  begged  me  of  him  to  have  gone  quite 
through  with  you,  and  he  would  have  granted  your  re- 
quest. However,  at  present  I  must  withdraw ;  and  so 
good  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  my  brave  children,  adieu. 

Then  the  porter,  Mr.  Watchful,  asked  Christiana  of 
her  country,  and  of  her  kindred  :  and  she  said,  4 1  came 
from  the  city  of  Destruction  ;  I  am  a  widow  woman,  and 
my  husband  is  dead  ;  his  name  was  Christian,  the  pil- 
grim.* '  How!'  said  the  porter, '  was  he  your  husband  ? 
4  Yes,'  said  she, '  and  these  his  children  ;  and  this,  (poin- 
ting to  Mercy) '  is  one  of  my  towns  women.'  Then  the 
porter  rang  his  bell,  as  at  such  time  he  is  -wont,  and 
there  came  to  the  door  one  of  the  damsels,  whose  name 
was  Humble-mind.  And  to  her  the  porter  said,  '  Go 
tell  it  within  that  Christiana  the  wife  of  Christian,  and 
her  children  are  come  hither  on  pilgrimage.'  She 
went  in,  therefore,  and  told  it.  But,  oh,  what  noise  for 
gladness  was  therein,  when  the  damsel  did  but  drop 
that  out  of  her  mouth  \ 

So  they  came  with  haftfe  to  the  porter,  for  Christiana 
stood  still  at  the  door.  Then  some  of  the  most  grave 
said  unto  her,  '  Come  in,  Christiana,  come  in,  thou  wife 
of  that  good  man :  come  in,  thou  blessed  woman,  come 
fn,  with  all  that  are  with  thee  '  So  she  went  in,  and  they 
followed  her  that  were  her  children  and  her  companions. 


228  THE    PILGRIM'*    PROGRESS. 

Now  when  they  were  gone  in,  they  were  had  into  a 
large  room,  and  bid  to  sit  down  :  so  they  sat  down,  and 
the  chief  of  the  house  were  called  to  see  and  welcome 
the  guests.  Then  they  came  in,  and,  understanding 
who  they  were,  did  salute  each  other  with  a  kiss  and 
-aid,  *  Welcome  ye  vessels  of  the  grace  of  God,  wel- 
some  unto  us  who  are  your  faithful  friends/ 

Now,  because  it  was  somewhat  late>  and  because  the 
pilgrims  were  weary  with  their  journey,  and  also  made 
faint  with  the  sight  of  the  fight,  and  the  terrible  lions, 
they  desired,  as  soon  as  might  be,  to  prepare  to  go  to 
rest.  '  Nay,'  said  those  of  the  family,  *  refresh  your- 
selves with  a  morsel  of  meat ;'  for  they  had  prepared  for 
:hem  a  lamb,  with  the  accustomed  sauce  thereto.*  For 
the  porter  had  heard  before  of  their  coming,  and  had 
told  it  to  them  within.  So  when  they  had  supped,  and 
ended  their  prayer  with  a  psalm,  they  desired  they  might 
go  to  rest.  *  But  let  us,'  said  Christiana,  *  if  we  may 
be  so  bold  as  to  choose,  be  in  that  chamber  that  was 
my  husband's  when  he  was  here.'  So  they  had  them 
up  thither,  and  they  all  lay  in  a  room.f  When  they 
were  at  rest,  Christiana  and  Mercy  entered  into  dis- 
course about  things  that  were  convenient. 

Chr.  Little  did  I  think  once,  when  my  husband  went 
on  pilgrimage,  that  I  should  ever  have  followed  him. 

Mer.  And  you  as  little  thought  of  lying  in  his  bed, 
and  in  his  chamber  to  rest,  as  you  do  now. 

Chr.  And  much  less  did  I  ever  think  of  seeing  his 
face  with  comfort,  and  of  worshipping  the  Lord  the 
King  with  him  ;  and  yet  now  I  be!;eve  I  shall ! 

Mer.  Hark,  don't  you  hear  a  noise? 

Chr.  Yes,  'tis,  as  1  believe,  a  noise  of  music  for  joy 
that  we  are  here. 

Mer.  Wonderful !  Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the 
heart,  and  music  also  in  heaven,  for  joy  that  we  are  here! 

Thus  they  talked  awhile  and  then  betook  themselves 
to  sleep.  So  in  the  morning  wh^n  they  were  awaked, 
Christiana  said  to  Mercy,  '  What  was  the  matter  that 
y«u  did  laugh  in  your  sleep  to-night?  I  suppose  you 
was  in  a  dream.' 

*  Exod.  xii.  3.  f  John  i.  29. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  229 

&fer.  So  I  was,  and  a  sweet  dream  it  was ;  but  are 
you  sure  I  laughed  ? 

Chr.  Yes;  you  laughed  heartily:  but pr'ythee, Mer- 
cy, tell  me  thy  dream. 

Mer.  I  was  a  dreaming  that  I  sat  all  alone  in  a  solitary 
place,  and  was  bemoaning  of  the  hardness  of  my  heart. 
Now  I  had  not  sat  there  long,  but  methought  many 
were  gathered  about  to  see  me,  and  to  hear  what  it  was 
that  I  said.  So  they  hearkened,  and  I  went  on  bemoaning 
the  hardness  of  my  heart.  At  this,  some  of  them  laugh- 
ed at  me,  some  called  me  a  fool,  and  some  began  to 
thrust  me  about.  With  that,  methought  1  looked  up, 
and  saw  one  coming  with  wings  towards  me.  So  he 
came  directly  to  me  and  said,  *  Mercy,  what  aileththee  V 
Now  when  he  had  heard  me  make  my  complaint,  he 
said,  *  Peace  be  to  thee  :'  he  also  wiped  mine  eyes  with 
bis  handkerchief,  and  clad  me  in  silver  and  gold.  He 
put  a  chain  upon  my  neck,  and  ear-rings  in  mine  enrs, 
and  a  beautiful  crown  upon  my  head.*  Then  he  took 
me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  '  Mercy,  come  after  me.' 
So  he  went  up,  and  I  followed,  till  we  came  at  a  golden 
gate.  Then  he  knocked :  and  when  they  within  had 
opened,  the  man  went  in,  and  I  followed  him  up  to  a 
throne,  upon  whieh  one  sat,  and  he  said  to  me,  '  Wel- 
come daughter.'  The  place  looked  bright  and  twink- 
ling, like  the  stars,  or  like  the  sun,  and  I  thought  that  I 
saw  y©ur  husband  there.  So  1  awoke  from  my  dream. 
But  did  I  laugh  ? 

Chr.  Laugh !  ay,  and  well  you  might,  to  see  yourself 
so  well.  For  you  must  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  that  it 
was  a  good  dream ;  and  that  as  you  have  begun  to  find 
the  first  part  true,  so  you  shall  find  the  second  at  last. 
"  God  speaks  once,  yea,  twice,  yet  man  perceived*  it 
not;  in  a  dream,  in  a  vision  of  the  night,  when  deep 
sleep  falleth  upon  men,  in  slumbering  upon  the  bed/'f 
We  need  not,  when  a  bed,  to  lie  awake  to  talk  with 
God  :  he  can  visit  us  while  we  sleep,  and  cause  lis 
to  hear  his  voice.  Our  heart  oft-times  wakes  when 
we  sleep  ;  and  God  can  speak  to  that,  either  by 
by  proverbs,  by  signs  or  similitudes,  as  well  as  .one 
was  awake. 

*  Ezek.  xvi.  3—13.  f  Job  x  v 

V 


230  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Mer.  Well,  I  am  glad  of  ray  dream,  for  I  hope,  ere 
long,  to  see  it  fulfilled,  to  the  making  me  laugh  again. 

Chr.  1  think  it  is  now  high  time  to  rise,  and  to  know 
what  we  must  do. 

Mer.  Pray,  if  they  advise  us  to  stay  awhile,  let  us 
willingly  accept  of  the  proffer.  I  am  the  wil linger  to 
stay  awhile  here,  to  grow  better  acquainted  with  these 
maids  :  methinks  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity,  have 
very  comely  and  sober  countenances. 

Chr.  We  shall  see  what  they  will  do. — So  when  they 
were  up  and  ready,  they  came  down,  and  they  asked 
one  another  of  their  rest,  and  if  it  was  comfortable  or  not. 

Very  good,  said  Mercy  ;  it  was  one  of  the  best  night's 
lodgings  that  ever  I  had  in  my  life. 

Then  said  Prudence  and  Piety,  If  you  will  be  persua- 
ded to  stay  here  a  while,  you  shall  have  what  the  house 
will  afford. 

Ay,  and  that  with  a  very  good  will,  said  Charity.— 
So  they  consented,  and  staid  there  about  a  month  or  a- 
bove,  and  became  very  profitable  one  to  another.  And, 
because  Prudence  would  see  how  Christiana  had 
brought  up  her  children,  she  asked  leave  of  her  to  cat- 
echise them  :  so  she  gave  her  free  consent.  Then  she 
began  with  the  youngest,  whose  name  was  James. 
And  she  said,  '  Come,  James,  canst  thou  tell  we  who 
made  thee  V 

Jam.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  apd  God  the  Ho- 
ly Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy.  And  canst  thou  tell  who  saved 
thee  ? 

Jam.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy  still.  But  how  doth  the  Father 
save  thee  ? 

Jam.  By  his  grace. 

Prud.  How  doth  God  the  Son  save  thee  ? 

Jam.  By  his  righteousness,  and  blood,  and  death,  and 
life. 

Prud.  And  how  doth  God  the  Holy  Ghost  save  thee  ? 

Jam.  By  his  illumination,  by  his  renovation,  and  by 
his  preservation. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Christiana,  You  are  to  be 
commended  for  thus  bringing  up  your  children.  I  sup- 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  231 

pose  I  need  not  ask  the  rest  these  questions,  since 
the  youngest  of  them  can  answer  them  so  well.  1  will 
therefore  now  apply  myself  to  the  next  youngest. 

Then  she  said,  Come,  Joseph  (for  his  name  was  Jo- 
seph,) will  you  let  me  catechise  you  ? 

Jos.  With  all  my  heart. 

Prud.  What  is  man  ? 

Jon.  A  reasonable  creature,  made  so  by  God,  as  my 
brother  said. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  this  word,  saved  ? 

Jos.  That  man  by  sin  has  brought  himself  into  a 
state  ot  captivity  and  misery. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  his  being  saved  by  the 
Trinity.? 

Jos.  That  sin  is  so  great  and  mighty  a  tyrant,  that 
none  can  pull  us  out  of  its  clutches,  but  God  ;  a;id  that 
God  is  so  good  and  loving  to  man,  as  to  pull  him  in- 
deed out  of  this  miserable  state. 

Prud.  What  is  God's  desire  in  saving  poor  man  ! 

Jos.  The  glorifying  of  his  name,  of  his  grace,  and  jus- 
tice, &c  ;  and  the  everlasting  happiness  of  his  creature. 

Prud.  Who  are  they  that  must  be  saved  ? 

Jos.  Those  that  accept  of  his  salvation. 

Prud.  Good  boy,  Joseph  ;  thy  mother  hath  taught 
thee  well,  and  thou  hast  hearkened  to  what  she  has 
said  unto  thee. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Samuel  (who  was  the  eldest 
son  but  one)  Come,  Samuel,  are  you  willing  that  I 
should  catechise  you  also  ? 

Sam.  Yes,  forsooth,  if  you  please. 

Prud.  What  is  heaven  ? 

Sam.  A  place  and  state  most  blessed,  because  God 
dwelleth  there. 

Prud.  What  is  hell  ? 

Sam.  A  place  and  state  most  woful,  because  it  is  the 
dwelling-place  of  sin,  the  devil,  and  death. 

Prud.  Why  wouldst  thou  go  to  heaven  ? 

Sam.  That  I  may  see  God,  and  serve  him  without 
weariness  :  that  I  may  see  Christ,  and  love  him  ever- 
lastingly ;  that  I  may  have  that  fulness  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  me,  that  I  can  by  no  means  here  enjoy. 

Prud.  A  very  good  boy,  and  one  that  has  learned 
%ye]i — Then  she  addressed  herself  to  the  eldest,  whose 


232  THE    PILGRIM^    PROGRESS. 

name  was  Matthew  ;  and  she  said  to  him.  Come,  Mat- 
thew, shall  I  also  catechise  you  ? 

Mat.  With  a  very  good  will. 

Prud.  I  ask,  then,  if  there  was  ever  any  thing  that 
had  a  being  antecedent  to,  or  before  God  ? 

Mat.  No  ;  for  God  is  eternal ;  nor  is  there  any  thing, 
excepting  himself,  that  had  a  being  until  the  begin- 
ning of  the  first  day  :  "  For  in  six  days  the.  Lord  made 
heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  tnem  is." 

Prud.  What  do  you  think  of  the  Bible  ? 

Mat.  It  is  the  Holy  word  oi  God. 

Prud.  Is  there  nothing  written  therein  but  What  you 
understand  ? 

Mat.  Yes,  a  great  deal. 

Prud.  What  do  you  do  when  you  meet  with  places 
therein  that  you  do  not  understand  ? 

Mat.  I  think  God  is  wiser  than  I.  I  pray  also  that 
he  will  please  to  let  me  know  all  therein,  that  he  knows 
"will  be  for  my  good. 

Prud.  How  believe  you,  as  touching  the  resurrection 
of  the  dead  ? 

Mat.  I  believe  they  shall  rise,  the  same  that  was  bu- 
ried ;  the  same  in  nature,  though  not  in  corruption. 
And  I  believe  this  upon  a  double  account  : — First,  be- 
cause God  has  promised  it :— secondly,  because  he  is  a- 
nle  to  perform  it. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  the  boys,  You  must  still  hear- 
ken to  your  mother,  for  she  can  learn  you  more.  You 
must  also  diligently  give  ear  to  what  good  talk  you  shall 
hear  from  others  :  for  your  sakes  do  they  speak  good 
things.  Observe  also,  and  that  with  carefulness,  what 
the  heavens  and  the  earth  do  teach  you  ;  but  especially 
be  much  in  the  meditation  of  that,  book,  that  was  the 
cause  of  your  father's  becoming  a  pilgrim.  I,  for  my 
part,  my  children,  will  teach  you  what  I  csn  while  you 
are'here,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  ask  me  questions 
that  tend  to  godly  edifying. 

Now  by  that  these  pilgrims  had  been  at  this  place  a 
week,  Mercy  had  a  visitor  that  pretended  some  g 
will  unto  her,  and  his  name  was  Mr.  Brisk,  a  man  of 
some  breeding,  and  that  pretended  to  religion;  but  a 
man  that  stuck  very  close  to  the  world.  So  he  came 
once  or  twice,  or  more,  to  Mercy,  and  offered  love 


THE  pilgrim's  progress.  233 

to  her. — Now  Mercy  was  of  a  fair  countenance,and  there- 
fore the  more  alluring.  Her  mind  also  was,  to  be  al- 
ways busying  of  herself  in  doing ;  for  when  she  had 
nothing  to  do  for  herself,  she  would  be  making  of  hose 
and  garments  for  others,  and  would  bestow  them  upon 
them  that  had  need.  And  Mr.  Brisk,  not  knowing 
where  or  how  she  disposed  of  what  she  made,  seemed 
to  be  greatly  taken  for  that  he  found  her  never  idle.  ■  I 
-will  warrant  her  a  good  housewife,'  quoth  he  to  himself. 

Mercy  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens  that 
were  of  the  house,  and  inquired  of  them  concerning 
him  ;  for  they  did  know  him  better  than  she.  So  they 
told  her,  that  he  was  a  very  busy  young  man,  and  one 
that  pretended  to  religion  ;  but  was,  as  they  feared,  a 
stranger  to  the  power  of  that  which  is  good. 

Nay  then,  said  Mercy,  I  will  look  no  more  on  him  ; 
for  I  propose  never  to  have  a  clog  to  my  soul. 

Prudence  then  replied  that  there  needed  ro  great 
matter  of  discouragement  to  be  given  to  him  ;  for  con- 
tinuing so,  as  she  had  begun,  to  do  for  the  poor,  would 
quickly  cool  his  courage. 

So  the  next  time  he  comes,  he  finds  her  at  her  old 
work,  a  making  things  for  the  poor.  Then  said  he, 
M  What,  always  at  it  ?"  *  Yes,'  said  she, i  either  for  my- 
self or  for  others.'  '  And  what  canst  thou  earn  a  day, 
quoth  he.'  *  I  do  these  things,'  said  she,  '  That  I  may 
be  rich  in  good  works,  laying  a  good  foundation  against 
the  time  to  come,  that  1  may  lay  hold  of  eternal  life.* 
Why  pr'ythee,  what  dost  thou  do  with  them  V  said  he. 
1  Clothe  the  naked,'  said  she.  With  that  his  counte- 
nance fell.  So  he  forbore  to  come  to  her  again.  And 
when  he  was  asked  the  reason  why,  he  said  that  Mercy 
was  a  pretty  lass,  but  troubled  with  ill-conditions. 

When  he  had  left  her,  Prudence  said,  Did  I  not  tell 
thee,  that  Mr.  Brisk  would  soon  forsake  thee  ?  yea,  he 
will  raise  up  an  ill  report  of  thee  :  for,  notwithstanding 
his  pretence  to  religion,  and  his  seeming  love  to  mercy, 
yet  mercy  and  he  are  of  tempers  so  different,  that  I  be- 
lieve they  will  never  come  together. 

Mer.  I  might  have  had  husbands  before  now, though 
I  spoke  not  of  it  to  any  ;  but  they  were  such  as  did  not 

*  1  Tim,  vi,  17—19. 


234 

like  my  conditions,  though  never  (lid  any  of  them  find 
fault  with  my  person.     So  they  and  I  could  not  agree. 

Prud.  Mercy  in  our  days  is  little  set  by,  any  further 
than  as  to  its  name :  the  practice,  which  is  set  forth  by 
the  conditions,  there  are  but  few  that  can  abide. 

Well,  said  Mercy,  if  nobody  .will  have  me,  1  will  die 
a  maid,  or  my  conditions  shall  be  to  me  as  a  husband  : 
fori  cannot  change  my  nature;  and  to  have  one  that 
lies  cross  to  me  in  this,  that  I  purpose  never  to  admit  of 
as  long  as  I  live.  1  had  a  sister,  named  Bountiful,  mar- 
ried to  one  of  these  churls  :  but  he  and  she  could  never 
agree  ;  but,  because  my  sister  was  resolved  to  do  as 
she  had  begun,  that  is,  to  show  kindness  to  the  poor, 
therefore  her  husband  first  cried  her  down  at  the  cross, 
and  then  turned  her  out  of  his  doors. 

Prud.  And  yet  he  was  a  professor,  I  warrant  you  ! 
Mer.  Yes,  such  a  one  as  he  was,  and  of  such  as  the 
world  is  now  full  :  but  I  am  for  none  of  them  all. 

Now  Matthew,  the  eldest  son  of  Christiana,  fell  sick, 
and  his  sickness  was  sore  upon  him,  for  he  was  much 
pained  in  his  bowels,  so  that  he  was  with  it,  at  times, 
pulled,  as  it  were,  bGth  ends  together.  There  dwelt 
also  not  far  from  thence,  one  Mr.  Skill,  an  ancient  and 
well  approved  physician.  So  Christiana  desired  it,  and 
they  sent  for  him,  and  he  came  :  when  he  was  entered 
the  room,  and  had  a  little  observed  the  boy,  he  conclu- 
ded that  he  was  sick  of  the  gripes.  Then  he  said  to  his 
inother,  '  What  diet  has  Matthew  of  late  fed  upon  ?* 
*  Diet!'  said  Christiana;  'nothing  but  what  is  whole- 
some/ The  physician  answered,  '  This  boy  has  been 
tampering  with  something  that  lies  in  his  maw  undi- 
gested, and  that  will  not  away  without  means.  And  I 
tell  you  he  must  be  purged  or  else  he  will  die.' 

Then  said  Samuel,  Mother,  what  was  that  which  my 
brother  did  gather  and  eat,  so  soon  as  we  were  come 
from  the  gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  the  way  ?  You  know 
that  there  was  an  orchard  on  the  left  hand,  on  the  oth- 
er side  of  the  wall,  and  some  of  the  trees  hung  over  the 
•Wall,  and  my  brother  did  pluck  and  did  eat. 

True,  my  child,  said  Christiana,  he  did  take  thereof, 
and  did  eat ;  naughty  boy  as  he  was,  I  chid  him,  and 
yet  he  would  eat  thereof 
Skill*  I  Knew  he  had  eaten  something  that  was  no 


^P         THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  230 

wholesome  food  ;  and  that  food,  to  wit,  that  fruit,  is  e- 
ven  the  most  hurtfui  of  all.  It  is  the  fruit  of  Beelzebub's 
orchard.  1  do  marvel  that  none  did  warn  you  of  it;  ma- 
ny have  died  thereof. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  cry ;  and  she  said,  '  O 
naughty  boy  1  and  O  careless  mother  1  what  shall  1  do 
for  my  son  V 

Skill.  Come,  do  not  be  too  dejected  ;  the  boy  may  do 
well  again,  but  he  must  purge  and  vomit. 

Chr.  Pray,  Sir,  try  the  utmost  of  your  skill  with  him, 
whatever  it  costs. 

Skill.  Nay,  I  hope  I  shall  be  reasonable. — So  he  made 
him  a  purge,  but  it  was  too  weak  ;  it  was  said,  it  was 
made  of  the  blood  of  a  goat,  the  ashes  of  a  heifer,  and 
with  some  of  the  juice  of  hysop,  &c*  When  Mr.  Skill 
had  seen  that  that  purge  was  too  weak,  he  made  him 
one  for  the  purpose  :  it  was  made  ex  came  ct  ealiguine 
Christi  ;f  (you  know  physicians  give  strange  medicines 
t€  their  patients  :)  and  it  was  made  up  into  pills,  with  a 
promise  or  two,  and  a  proportionable  quantity  of  salt.:}: 
Now  he  was  to  take  them  three  at  a  time,  fasting,  in 
half  a  quarter  of  a  pint  of  the  tears  of  repentance. j 
When  this  potion  was  prepared,  and  brought  to  the  boy, 
he  was  loth  to  take  it,  though  torn  with  the  gripes,  as  if 
he  should  be  puiled  in  pieces.  *  Come,  come/  said  the 
physician,  1  you  must  take  it.'  '  It  goes  against  my  sto- 
mach/ said  the  boy.  i  I  must  have  you  take  it/  said  his 
mother.  '  I  shall  vomit  it  up  again/  said  the  boy.  «  Pray 
sir/  said  Christiana  to  Mr.  Skill,  '  how  does  it  taste  V 
i  It  has  no  ill  taste/  said  the  doctor  ;  and  with  that  she 
touched  one  of  the  pills  with  the  tip  of  her  tongue.  '  Oh, 
Matthew7/  said  she,  '  this  potion  is  sweeter  than  honey. 
If  thou  lovest  thy  mother,  il  thou  lovest  thy  brothers,  if 
thou  lovest  Mercy,  if  thou  lovest  thy  life,  take  it.'  So 
with  much  ado,  after  a  short  prayer  for  the  blessing  of 
God  upon  it,  he  took  it,  and  it  wrought  kindly  with 
him.  It  caused  him  to  purge,  to  sleep,  and  to  rest 
quietly  ;  it  put  him  into  a  fine  heat  and  breathing  sweat, 
and  rid  him  of  his  gripes. 

So  in  a  little  time  he  got  up,  and  walked  about  with 

*  Heb.  ix.  13—19.  x.  1—4.     f  John  vi.  54—57.  Heb.  ix.  14. 
I  Mark  ix,  49.  $  Zech.  xii.  10. 


•236  the  nlgrim\i  progress. 

a  staff,  and  would  go  from  room  to  room,  and  talk  with 
Prudence,  Piety  at  d  Charity  of  his  distemper,  and  how 
he  was  healed. 

So  when  the  boy  was  healed,  Christiana  asked  Mr. 
Skill  saying,  '  Sir,  what  will  content  you  for  your  pains 
and  care  to  me,  and  of  my  child  V  And  he  said,  '  You 
must  pay  the  Master  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  ac- 
cording to  rules  made  in  that  case,  and  provided.'* 

But,  Sir,  said  she*  what  is  this  pill  gooci  for  else  ? 

Skill,  it  is  an  universal  pill ;  it  is  good  against  all 
diseases  that  pilgrims  are  incident  to  ;  and,  when  it  is 
well  prepared,  will  keep  good  time  out  of  mind. 

Chr.  Pray,  Sir,  make  me  up  twelve  boxes  of  them  : 
for,  if  I  can  get  these,  I  will  never  take- other  physic. 

Skill.  These  pills  are  good  to  prevent  disease,  as 
well  as  to  cure  when  one  is  sick.  Yea,  I  dare  say  it, 
and  stand  to  it,  that  if  a  man  will  but  use  this  physic  as 
.he  should,  it  will  make  him  live  for  eveivj-  But  good 
Christiana,  thou  must  give  these  pills  no  other  way,  but 
as  I  have  prescribed  :  for  if  you  do,  they  will  do  no  good. 
So  he  gave  unto  Christiana  physic  for  herself,  and  her 
boys,  and  for  Mercy  ;  and  bid  Matthew  take  heed  how 
he  eat  any  more  green  plums  ;  and  kissed  him  and 
went  his  way. 

It  was  told  you  before,  that  Prudence  bid  the  boys, 
that  if  at  any  time  they  would,  they  should  ask  her  some 
questions  that  might  be  profitable,  and  she  would  say 
something  to  thern. 

Then  Matthew,  who  had  been  sick,  asked  her,  Why, 
for  the  most  part,  physic  should  be  bitter  to  our  palates  ? 

Prud.  To  show  how  unwelcome  the  word  of  God, 
and  the  effects  thereof,  are  to  a  carnal  heart. 

Mat.  Why  does  physic,  if  it  does  good,  purge,  and 
cause  to  vomit  ? 

Prud.  To  show,  that  the  word,  when  it  works  effec- 
tually, cleanseth  the  heart  and  mind.  Foi,  look,  what 
the  one  doeth  to  the  body,  the  other  doeth  to  the  soul. 

Mat.  What  should  we  learn  by  seeing  the  flame  of 
our  fire  go  upwards  ?  and  by  seeing  the  beams  and 
sweet  influences  of  the  sun  strike  downwards  ? 

Prud.  By  the  going  up  ^f  the  fire,  we  are  taught  to  as- 

*  Heb.  xiii.  11—15.  t  Johnvi.  58. 


THE    PILGRIM'S     PROGRESS.  237 

cend  to  heaven,  by  fervent  and  hot  desires.  And  by  the 
-sun  sending  his  heat,  beams,  and  sweet  influences 
downwards,  we  arejtaught  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
though  high,  reaches  down  with  his  grace  and  love  to 
us  below. 

Mat.  Where  have  the  clouds  their  water  ? 

Prud.  Out  of  th,e  sea 

Mat.  YV  hat  may  we  learn  from  that  ? 

Prud.  That  ministers  should  fetch  their  doctrine 
from  God. 

Mat.  Why  do  they  empty  themselves  upon  the  earth  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  ministers  should  give  out  what 
they  know  of  God  to  the  world. 

Mat.  Why  is  the  rainbow  caused  by  the  sun  ? 

Prud.  To  show,  that  the  covenant  of  God's  grace  is 
confirmed  to  us  in  Christ. 

Mat.  Why  do  the  springs  come  from  the  sea  to  us 
through  the  earth  ? 

Prud.  To  show,  that  the,  grace  of  God  comes  to  us 
through  the  body  of  Christ. 

Mat.  Why  do  some  of  the  springs  rise  out  of  the  top 
of  the  hills? 

Prud.  To  show,  that  the  Spirit  of  grace  shall  spring 
np  in  some  that  are  great  and  mighty,  as  well  as  in 
maijy  that  are  poor  and  low. 

Mat.  Why  doth  the  fire  fasten  upon  the  candlewick  ? 

Prud.  To  show,  that,  unless  grace  doth  kindle  upon 
the  heart,  there  will  be  no  true  light  oi  life  in  us. 

Mat.  Why  is  the  wick,  and  tallow,  and  all,  spent,  to 
maintain  the  light  of  the  candle  ? 

Prud.  To  show,  that  body  and  soul,  and  all,  should 
be  at  the  service,  and  spend  themselves  to  maintain  in 
good  condition,  that  grace  of  God  that  is  in  us. 

Mat.  Why  doth  the  pelican  pierce  her  own  breast 
with  her  bill  ? 

Prud.  To  nourish  her  young  ones  with  her  blcod, 
thereby  to  show  that  Christ  the  blessed,  so  ioveth  his 
youn.'s-,  his  people, -as  to  save  them  from  death  by  his 
blood. 

Mat.  What  may  one  learn  by  hearing  of  the  cock 
crow  ? 

Prud  Learn  to  remember  Peter's  sin  and  Peter's  re- 
pentance.    The  cock's  crowing  shows  also,  that  day  is 


238 

coming  on  :  let  then  the  crowing  of  the  cock  put  thee 
in  mind  of  that  last  and  terrible  clay  of  judgment. 

Now  about  this  time  their  month  was  out;  where- 
fore they  signified  to  those  of  the  house,  that  it  was  con- 
venient for  them  to  up  and  be  going.  Then  said  Joseph 
to  his  mother,  "  It  is  convenient  that  you  forget  not  to 
send  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Interpreter,  to  pray  him  to 
grant  that  Mr.  Great-heart  should  be  sent  unto  us,  that 
he  may  be  our  conductor  the  rest  of  our  way."  "  Good 
boy/  said  she,  *  I  had  almost  forgot.'  So  she  drew  up 
a  petition,  and  prayed  Mr.  Watchful  the  porter,  to  send 
it  by  some  fit  man,  to  her  good  friend  Mr.  Interpreter  ; 
who,  when  it  was  cone,  and  he  had  seen  the  contents 
of  the  petition,  said  to  the  messenger,  '  Go,  tell  them 
that  I  will  send  him..' 

When  the  family,  where  Christiana  was,  saw  that 
they  had  a  purpose  to  ge  forward,  they  called  the  whole 
house  together,  to  give  thanks  to  their  King,  for  send- 
ing of  them  such  profitable  guests  as  these.  Which 
done,  they  said  unto  Christiana, '  And  shall  we  not  show 
thee  something,  according  as  our  custom  is  to  do  to 
pilgrims,  on  which  thou  mayest  meditate  when  thou  art 
on  the  way  ?'  So  they  took  Christiana,  her  children,  and 
Mercy,  into  the  closet,  and  showed  them  one  of  the  ap- 
ples that  Eve  ate  of,  and  that  she  also  did  give  to  her 
husband,  and  that  for  the  eating  of  which,  they  were 
both  turned  out  of  Paradise  ;  and  asked  her,  i  What 
she  thought  that  was  ?'"  Then  Christiana  said, '  It  is  food 
or  poison,  I  know  not  which.*  So  they  opened  the  mat- 
ter to  her,  and  she  held  up  her  hands  and  wondered.* 

Th^n  they  had  her  to  a  place,  and  showed  her  Jacob's 
ladder.  Now  at  that  time  there  were  some  angels  as- 
cending upon  it.  So  Christiana  looked,  and  looked  to 
see  the  angels  go  up  ;  so  did  the  rest  of  the  company.f 
Then  they  were  going  Into  another  place,  to  rhow  them 
something  else  :  but  James  said  to  his  mother,  '  Pray 
bid  them  stay  a  little  longer,  for  this  is  a  curious  sight.* 
So  they  turned  again,  and  stood  feeding  their  eyes  on 
this  so  pleasant  a  prospect.  After  this,  they  had  them 
into  a  place,  where  there  did  hang  up  a  golden  anchor  : 
so  they  bid  Christiana  take  it  down  ;  for,  said  they,  you 
*Gen.  hi.  1—6.     Rom  vii  21.  +  Gen.  xxviii 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  239 

shall  have  it  with  you  for  it  is  of  absolute  necessity  that 
you  should,  that  you  may  lay  hold  of  that  within  the 
veil,  and  stand  stediast  in  case  you  should  meet  with 
turbulent  weather:  so  they  were  glad  thereof.* — Then 
they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  the  mount  upon  which 
Abraham  our  father  had  offered  up  Isaac  his  son,  and 
showed  them  the  altar,  the  wood,  the  fire,  and  the  kniie  ; 
for  they  remain  to  be  seen  to  this  very  day.  When  they 
had  seen  it,  they  held  up  their  hands,  and  blessed  them- 
selves, and  said,  *  Oh  what  a  man  for  love  to  his  master, 
and  for  denial  to  himself,  was  Abraham  I'  After  they 
Had  showed  them  all  these  things,  Prudence  took  them 
into  a  dining-room,  where  stood  a  pair  of  excellent  vir- 
ginals :  so  she  played  upon  them,  and  turned  what  she 
had  showed  them  into  this  excellent  song,  saying, 

4  Eve's  apple  we  have  showed  you  ; 

Of  that  be  you  aware  ; 
You  have  seen  Jacob's  ladder  too, 

Upon  which  angels  are  : 
An  anchor  you  received  have  ; 

But  let  not  this  suffice, 
Until  with  Abra'am  you  have  gave 

Your  best  of  sacrifice.' 

Now  about  this  time  one  knocked  at  the  door ;  so 
the  porter  opened,  and,  behold,  Mr.  Great- heart  was 
there !  But  when  he  was  come  what  joy  was  there  ! 
For  it  came  now  fresh  again  into  their  minds,  how  but 
awhile  ago  he  had  slain  old  Grim  Bloody-man  the  gi- 
ant, and  had  delivered  them  from  the  lions. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  Christiana  and  to  Mer- 
cy, My  Lord  has  sent  each  of  you  a  bottle  of  wine,  and 
also  some  parched  corn,  together  with  a  couple  of  pom- 
egranates ;  he  also  sent  the  boys  some  figs  and  raisins ; 
to  refresh  you  in  your  way. 

Then  they  addressed  themselves  to  their  journey; 
and  Prudence  and  Piety  went  along  with  them.  When 
they  came  at  the  gate,  Christiana  asked  the  porter,  if  a- 
ny  of  late  went  by.  He  said  No,  only  one,  some  time 
since,  who  also  told  me,  that  of  late  there  had  been  a 
great  robbery  committed  on  the  king's  highway,  you 
go  :  but,  said  he,  the  thieves  are  taken,  and  will  shortly 

*  Joel  hi.  10.    Heb.  vi.  19. 


240  the  pilgrim's  frogress. 

be  tried  for  their  lives.  Then  Christiana  and  Mercy 
were  afraid ;  but  Matthew  said,  Mother,  fear  nothing, 
as  long  as  Mr.  Great-heart  is  to  go  with  us,  and  to  be 
our  conductor. 

Then  said  Christiana  to  the  porter,  Sir,  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  all  the  kindnesses  that  you  have 
showed  to  me  since  I  came  hither*;  and  also  that  you 
have  been  so  loving  and  kind  to  my  children  ;  I  know 
not  how  to  gratify  your  kindness  :  wherefore,  pray  as  a 
token  of  my  respects  to  you,  accept  of  this  small  mite. 
— So  she  put  a  gold  angel  into  his  hand  ;  and  he  made 
her  a  low  obeisance,  and  said,  l  Let  thy  garments  be  al- 
ways white,  and  let  thy  head  want  no  ointment.  Let 
Mercy  live  and  not  die,  and  let  not  her  works  be  few.' 
And  to  the  boys  he  said,  '  Do  you  flee  youthful  lusts, 
~nd  follow  after  godliness  with  them  that  are  grave  and 
wise  ;  so  shall  you  put  gladness  into  your  mother's 
heart,  and  obtain  praise  of  all  that  are  sober-minded.'-— 
So  they  thanked  the  porter,  and  departed. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  forward  un- 
til they  were  come  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  where  Piety, 
bethinking  herself,  cried  out,  Alas !  1  have  forgot  what 
I  intended  to  bestow  upon  Christiana  and  her  compan- 
ions ;  I  will  go  back  and  fetch  it.  So  she  ran  and  fetch- 
ed it.  When  she  was  gone,  Christiana  thought  she 
heard  in  a  grove,  a  little  way  off  on  the  right  hand,  a 
most  curious  melodious  note  with  words  much  like 
these : 

Through  all  my  life  thy  faver  is 

So  frankly  show'd  to  me, 
That  in  thy  house  for  evermore 

My  dwelling-place  shall  be.' 

And  listening  still  she  thought  she  heard  another  an- 
swer it  saying, 

*  For  why  ?  The  Lord  our  God  is  good, 

His    mercy  is  for  ever  sure  : 
His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 

And  shali  i'rom  age  to  age  endure.* 

So  Christiana  asked  Prudence  what  it  was  that  made 
those  curious  notes.  Tney  are,  said  she,  our  country 
birds  :  they  sing  these  note  ?  but  seldom,  except  it  be  at 
the  spring,  when  the  flowers  appear,  and  the  sun  shines 


THK    PILGUIM'S    PItOGRK  241 

Warm,  and  then  you  may  hear  them  all  the  day  long. 
I  often,  said  she,  go  to  hear  then. :  we  also  oft-times 
keep  them  tame  in  our  hou*  e.  They  are  very  fine 
company  for  us  when  we  are  melancholy  ;  also  they 
make  the  woods  and  groves,  and  solitary  places,  places 
desirous  to  be  in.* 

By  this  time  Piety  was  come  again  ;  so  she  said  to 
Christiana,  Look  here,  I  have  brought  thee  a  scheme  of 
all  those  things  that  thou  hast  seen  at  our  house,  upon 
which  thou  mayestlook  when  thou  ftndest  thyself  for* 
gctful,  and  call  those  things  again  to  remembrance,  for 
thv  edification  and  comforr. 

Now  they  began  to  go  down  the  hill  to  the  valley  of 
Humiliation.  It  was  a  steep  hill,  and  the  way  was  slippe- 
ry ;  but  they  were  very  careful ;  so  they  got  down  pretty 
well.  When  they  were  down  in  the  valley,  Piety  said  to 
Christiana,  This  is  the  place  where  your  husband  met 
with  the  foul  fiend  Apollyon,  and  where  they  had  the 
great  fight  that  they  had  :  I  know  you  cannot  but  have 
heard  thereof.  But  be  of  good  courage;  as  long  as 
you  have  here  Mr.  Great-heart  to  be  your  guide  and 
conductor,  we  hope  you  will  fare  the  better.— -So  when 
these  two  had  committed  the  pilgrims  unto  the  conduct 
of  their  guide,  he  went  forward,  and  they  went  after. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  We  need  not  be  so  afraid 
of  this  valley,  for  here  is  nothing  to  hurt  us,  unless  we 
procure  it  ourselves.  It  is  true,  Christian  did  meet 
here  with  Apollyon,  with  whom  also  he  had  a  sore  com- 
bat ;  but  that  fray  was  the  fruit  of  tl.ose  slips  that  he 
got  in  his  going  down  the  hill  :  for  they  that  get  slips 
there,  must  look  for  combats  here.  And  hence  it  is 
that  this  valley  has  got  so  hard  a  name.  For  the  com- 
mon people,  when  they  hear  that  some  frightful  thing 
has  befallen  such  an  one,  in  such  a  place,  are  of  opinion 
that  that  place  is  haunted  with  some  foul  fiend,  or  evil 
spirit  when  alas  !  it  is  for  the  fruit  of  their  doing,  that 
such  things  do  befal  them  there. 

This  valley  of  Humiliation  is  of  itself  as  fruitful  a 
place  as  any  the  crow  flies  over  ;  and  I  am  persuaded) 
if  we  could  bit  upon  it,  we  might  find  somewhere  here* 

*  Sol.  Song  ii.  IX,  12. 

w 


242 

about  something  that  might  give  us  an  account,  why 
Christian  was  so  hardly  beset  in  this  place. 

Then  James  said  to  his  mother,  '  Lo,  yonder  stands  a 
pillar,  and  it  looks  as  if  something  was  written  thereon  ; 
let  us  go  and  see  what  it  is.'  •  So  they  went,  and  found 
there  written,  '  Let  Christian's  slips,  before  he  came 
hither,  and  the  burden  that  he  met  with  in  this  place,  be 
a  warning  to  those  that  come  after.'  '  Lo,'  said  their 
guide,  '  did  I  not  tell  you  that  there  was  something 
hereabouts,  that  would  give  intimation  of  the  reason 
■why  Christian  was  so  hard  beset  in  this  place  V  Then, 
turning  to  Christiana,  he  said,  No  disparagement  to 
Christian,  more  than  to  many  others  whose  hap  and  lot 
it  was.  For  it  is  easier  going  up  than  down  this  hill, 
and  that  can  be  said  but  of  few  hills  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  But  we  will  leave  the  good  man,  he  is  at  rest, 
he  also  had  a  brave  victory  over  his  enemy  :  let  Him 
grant  that  dwelleth  above,  that  we  fare  no  worse,  when 
we  come  to  be  tried,  than  he  ! 

But  we  will  come  again  to  this  valley  of  Humiliation. 
—It  is  the  best  and  most  fruitful  piece  of  ground  in  all 
these  parts.  It  is  a  fat  ground  ;  and  as  you  see  consist  - 
eth  much  in  meadows  ;  and  if  a  man  was  to  come  here 
in  the  summer-time,  as  we  do  now,  if  he  knew  not  any- 
thing before  thereof,  and  if  he  also  delighted  himself  in 
the  sight  of  his  eye,  he  might  see  that  which  would  be 
delightful  to  him.  Behold,  how  green  this  valley  is  ; 
also  how  beautiful  with  lilies.*  I  have  also  known  ma- 
ny laboring  men  that  have  got  good  estates  in  this  val- 
ley of  Humiliation ;  (for  "  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but 
giveth  more  grace  to  the  humble;")  for  indeed  it  is  a 
Tery  fruitful  soil,  and  doth  bring;  forth  by  handfuls. 
Some  also  have  wished,  that  the  next  wav  to  their  Fath- 
er's house  were  here,  that  they  might  be  troubled  no 
more  with  either  hills  or  mountains  to  go  over  :  but  the 
way  is  the  way,  and  there  is  an  end. 

Now  as  they  were  going  along,  and  talking,  they  es- 
pied a  boy  feeding  his  father's  sheep.  The  boy  was  in 
very  mean  clothes,  but  of  a  fresh  and  well-favored 
countenance  ;  and  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sung.  Hark, 

*  Sol.  Song  ii.  1.    James  iv.  6.     1  Pet.  v.  5, 


THE    PILGRIM^    PROGRESS.  243 

said  Mr.  Great-heart,  to  what  the  shepherd's  boy  saith  : 
— so  they  hearkened,  and  he  said, 

He  tbat  is  down,  needs  fear  no  fall  : 

He  that  is  low,  no  pride  : 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 

Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 
I  am  content  with  what  I  have, 

Little  be  it  or  much  : 
And,  Lord,  contentment  still  I  crave, 

Because  thou  savest  such. 
Fulness  to  such  a  burden  is 

That  go  on  pilgrimage  : 
Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss, 

Is  best  from  age  to  age.* 

Then  said  the  guide,  Do  you  hear  {him?  I  will  dare 
to  say,  this  boy  lives  a  merrier  life,  and  wears  more  of 
the  herb  called  hearts-ease  in  his  bosom,  than  he  that  is 
clad  in  silk  and  velvet.  But  we  will  proceed  on  our 
discourse. 

In  this  valley  our  Lord  formerly  had  his  country 
Iiousc,  he  loved  much  to  be  here  :  he  loved  also  to  walk 
in  these  meadows,  and  he  found  the  air  was  pleasant. 
Besides,  here  a  man  shall  be  free  from  the  noise,  and 
from  the  Imrryings  of  this  life. :  all  states  are  full  of 
noise  and  confusion,  only  the  valley  of  Humiliation  is 
that  empty  and  solitary  place.  Here  a  man  shall  not 
be  let  and  hindered  in  his  contemplation,  as  in  other 
places  he  is  apt  to  be.  This  is  a  valley  that  nobody 
walks  in,  but  those  that  love  a  pilgrim's  life.  And 
though  Christian  had  the  hard  hap  to  meet  with  Apoliy- 
on,  and  to  enter  with  him  a  brisk  encounter  ;  yet  I  must 
tell  you,  that  in  former  limes  men  have  met  with  angels 
here,  have  found  pearls  here,  and  have  in  this  place 
found  the  words  of  life.f 

Did  I  say,  Our  Lord  had  here  in  former  days  his 
country  house,  and  that  he  loved  here  to  walk  ?  I  will 
?.dd,  in  this  place,  vnd  to  the  people  that  live  and  trace 
these  grounds,  he  has  left  a  yearly  revenue,  to  be  faith- 
fully paid  them  at  certain  seasons  for  their  maintenance 
by  the  way,  and  for  their  further  encouragement  to  go 
on  their  pilgrimage. 

*  Heb.  xiii.  v.  f  Hos.  ii.  4.  5, 


-44  THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS, 

Now,  as  they  went  on,  Samuel  said  to  Mr.  Great- 
heart ;  ?  Sir,  I  perceive  that  in  this  valley  ray  father  and 
Apollyon  had  their  battle  ;  but  whereabout  was  the 
fight  ?  for  I  perceive  this  valley  is  large.' 

Gr.-h.  Your  father  had  the  battle  with  Apollyon,  at 
a  place  yonder  before  us,  in  a  narrow  passage  just  be- 
yond Forgetful  Green.  And  indeed  that  plac«  is  the 
most  dangerous  place  in  all  these  parts :  for  if  at  any 
time  pilgrims  meet  with  any  brunt,  it  is  when  they  for- 
get what  favors  they  have  received,  and  how  unworthy 
they  are  of  them.  This  is  the  place  also,  where  others 
have  been  hard  put  to  it  ;  for  I  persuade  myself  that  to 
this  day  there  remains  either  some  sign  of  the  battle,  or 
some  monument  to  testify  that  such  a  battle  there  was 
fought. 

Then  said  Mercy,  I  think  I  am  as  well  in  this  valley 
as  I  have  been  any  where  else  in  all  our  journey  :  the 
place,  methinks,  suits  with  my  spirit.  I  love  to  be  in 
such  places  where  there  is  no  rattling  with  coaches, 
nor  rumbling  with  wheels  :  methinks,  here  one  may, 
without  much  molestation,  be  thinking  what  he  is, 
xshenee  he  came,  what  he  has  done,  and  to  what  the 
Ring  has  called  him  :  here  one  may  think,  and  break  at 
heart,  ami  melt  in  one's  spirit,  until  one's  eyes  become 
"  as  the  fish-pools  of  Heshbon."  They  that  go  rightly 
through  this  u  valley  of  Bacha,  make  it  a  well ;  the  rain," 
that  God  sends  down  from  heaven  upon  them  that  are 
here,  "  also  filleththe  pools."  This  valley  is  that  from 
whence  also  the  King  will  give  tot'iem  their  vineyards  ;* 
and  they  that  go  through  it  shall  sing  as  Christian  did, 
for  all  he  met  with  Apollyon. 

It  is  true,  said  their  guide,  I  have  gone  through  this 
valley  many  a  time,  and  never  was  better  than  when 
here.  I  have  also  been  a  conductor  to  several  pilgrims, 
and  they  have  confessed  the  same.  4'  To  this  man  will 
I  look*'  (saith  the  King)  "  even  to  him  that  is  poor,  and 
of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  that  trembleth  at  my  word." 

Now  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  afore- 
mentioned battle  was  fought.  Then  said  the  guide  to 
Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  this  is  the  place  : 
on  this  ground  Christian  stood,  and  up  there  came  Apol  ■ 

fol.  Soa?  ri  ii.  4     Psal.  lsj&ir.  5— 7.     Hos 


245 

lyon  against  him  :  and,  look,  did  not  I  tell  you,  here  is 
some  of  your  husband's  blood  upon  these  stones  to  this 
day  :  behoid,  also,  how  here  and  there  are  yet  to  be  seen 
upon  the  place  some  of  the  shivers  of  Apollyoifs  bro- 
ken darts  .  see  also,  how  they  did  beat  the  ground  with 
their  feet  as  they  fought,  to  make  good  their  places  a- 
gai  st  each  other  ;  how  also,  with  their  by-blows,  they 
did  split  the  very  stones  in  pieces ;  verily  Christian  did 
here  play  the  man,  and  showed  himself  as  stout  as  Her-* 
cules  could,  had  he  been  there,  even  he  himself.  When 
Apollyon  was  beat,  he  made  his  retreat  to  the  next  val- 
ley, that  is  called  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
unto  which  we  shall  come  anon.  Lo,  yonder  also  stands 
a  monument,  on  which  is  engraven  this  battle,  and 
Christian's  victory,  to  his  fame  throughout  all  ages. 

So  because  it  stood  just  on  the  way  side  before  them, 
they  stepped  to  it,  and  read  the  writing,  which  word  for 
word  was  this  :— 

1  Hard  by  here  was  a  battle  fought, 

Most  strange,  and  yet  most  true 
Christian  and  Apollyon  sought 

Each  other  to  subdue. 
The  man  so  bravely  play'd  the  man, 

He  made  the  fiend  to  fly  ; 
Of  which  a  monument  I  stand, 

The  same  to  testify.' 

When  they  had  passed  by  this  place  they  came  upon 
the  borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  this  valley  was 
longer  than  the  other  j  a  place  also  more  strongly  haun- 
ted with  evil  things,  as  many  are  able  to  testify  :  but 
these  women  and  children  went  the  better  through  it, 
because  they  had  day-light,  and  because  Mr.  Great-heart 
was  their  conductor. 

When  they  were  entered  upon  this  valley,  they 
thought  that  they  heard  a  groaning,  as  of  dead  men;  a 
very  great  groaning.  They  thought  also  that  they  did 
hear  words  of  lamentation,  spoken  as  of  some  in  ex- 
treme torment.  These  things  made  the  boys  to  quake, 
the  women  also  looked  pale  and  wan ;  but  their  guide 
bid  them  be  of  good  comfort. 

So  they  went  on  a  little  further,  and  they  thought 
that  they  felt  the  ground  begin  to  shake  under  them?  as 
W  2 


246  the  pilgrim's  progress 

if  some  holloa  place  was  there  :  they  heard  also  a  kiwi 
of  hissing,  as  of  serpents,  but  nothing  as  yet  appeared. 
Then  said  the  boys,  4  Are  we  not  yet  at  the  end  of  this 
doleful  place  ?■'  But  the  guide  also  bid  them  be  of  good 
courage,  and  look  well  to  their  feet,  lest  haply,  said  he, 
you  be  taken  in  some  snare. 

Now  James  began  to  be  sick,  but  I  think  the  cause 
thereof  was  fear ;  so  his  mother  gave  him  some  of  that 
glass  of  spirits  that  she  had  given  her  at  the  Interpret- 
er's house,  and  three  of  the  pills  that  Mr.  Skill  had 
prepared  ;  and  the  boy  began  to  revive.  Thus  they 
went  on,  till  they  came  to  about  the  middle  of  the  valley ; 
and  then  Christiana  said,  '  Methinks  I  see  something 
yonder  upon  the  road  before  us ;  a  thing  of  a  shape 
such  as  I  have  not  seer.'  Then  said  Joseph,  *  Mother, 
what  is  it  V  *  An  ugly  thing,  child ;  an  ugly  thing,' 
said  she.  i  But,  mother,  what  is  it  like,'  said  he.  '  'Tis 
like,  I  cannot  tell  what,'  said  she.  '  And  now  it  is  but 
a  little  way  off.'  Then  said  she,  ■  It  is  nigh.' 

1  Well,'  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  *  let  them  that  are  most 
afraid  keep  close  to  me.'  So  the  fiend  came  on,  and 
the  conductor  met  it ;  but  when  it  was  just  come  to 
him,  it  vanished  to  all  their  sights  :  then  remembered 
they  what  had  been  said  some  time  ago  j  "  Resist  the 
devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you." 

They  went  therefore  on,  as  being  a  little  refreshed ; 
but  they  had  not  gone  far,  before  Mercy,  looking  behind 
her,  saw,  as  she  thought,  something  almost  like  a  lion, 
and  it  came  a  great  padding  pace  after  ;  and  it  had  a 
hollow  voice  of  roaring  ;  and  at  every  roar  that  it  gave, 
it  made  the  valley  echo,  and  all  their  hearts  to  acfce, 
save  the  heart  of  him  that  was  their  guide.  So  k  came 
up  ;  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  behind,  and  put  the  pil- 
grims all  before  him.  The  lion  also  came  on  apace, 
and  Mr.  Great-heart  addressed  himself  to  give  him 
battle.  But  when  he  saw  that  it  was  determined  that 
resistance  should  be  made,  he  also  drew  back  and  came 
no  further.* 

Then  they  went  on  again  and  their  conductor  did  go 
before  them,  till  they  came  to  a  place  where  was  cast  up 
a  pk  the  whole  breadth  of  the  way ;  and,  before  they 

*  1  Pet.  v.  8.      * 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  247 

could  be  prepared  to  go  over  that,  a  great  mist  and  a 
darkness  fell  upon  them,  so  that  they  could  not  see. 
Then  said  the  pilgrims,  Alas  1  now  what  shall  we  do  ?' 
But  their  guide  made  answer,  *  Fear  not,  stand  still, 
and  see  what  an  end  will  be  put  to  this  also.'  So  they 
staid  there,  because  their  path  was  marred.  They  then 
also  thought  they  did  hear  more  apparently  the  noise 
and  rushing  of  the  enemies  ;  the  fire  also,  and  smoke 
of  the  pit  was  much  easier  to  be  discerned.  Then  said 
Christiana  to  Mercy,  Now  I  see  what  my  poor  husband 
went  through;  I  have  heard  much  of  this  place,  but  I 
never  was  here  before  now:  Poor  man!  he  went  here, 
all  alone,  in  the  night ;  he  had  night  almost  quite 
through  the  way :  also  these  fiends  were  busy  about 
him,  as  if  they  would  have  torn  him  in  pieces.  Many 
have  spoke  of  it,  but  none  can  tell  what  the  valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death  should  mean  until  they  come  in  them- 
selves. "  The  heart  knows  its  own  hiKerness  ;  a  stran- 
ger intermeddleth  not  with  its  joy.'*  To  be  here  is  a 
fearful  thing. 

Great-heart.  This  is  like  doing  business  in  great  wa- 
ters, or  like  going  down  into  the  deep  :  this  is  like  be- 
ing in  the  heart  of  the  sea,  and  like  going  down  to  the 
bottoms  of  the  mountains  :  now  it  seems  as  if  the  ea»  th 
with  its  bars  were  about  us  for  ever.  "  But  let  them 
that  walk  in  daTkness,  and  have  no  light,  trust  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  their  God."  For  my 
part,  as  I  have  told  you  already,  I  have  gone  often 
through  this  valley,  and  have  been  much  harder  put  to 
it  than  now  I  am  ;  and  yet  you  see  I  am  alive.  I  would 
not  boast,  for  that  lam  not  my  own  saviour  :  but  I  trust 
we  shall  have  a  good  deliverance.  Ceme,  pray  for 
light  to  him  that  can  lighten  our  darkness,  and  can  re- 
buke not  only  these,  but  all  the  satans  in  hell. 

So  they  cried  and  prayed,  and  God  sent  light  and  de- 
liverance ;  for  there  was  now  no  let  in  their  way  ;  no 
not  there,  where  but  now,  they  were  stopt  with  a  pit. 
Yet  they  were  not  got  through  the  valley ;  so  they  went 
on  still,  and,  behold,  great  stinks  and  loathsome  smells, 
to  the  great  annoyance  of  them.  Then  said  Mercy  to 
Christiana,  there  is  not  such  pleasant  bein^  here  as  at 
the  gate,  or  at  the  Interpreter's,  or  at  the  hjuse  whero 
we  lay  last. 


248 

O  but  (srid  one  of  the  boys)  it  is  not  so  bad  to  go 
through  here,  as  it  is  to  abide  here  ahvay ;  and  for  ought 
I  know,  one  reason  why  we  must  go  this  way  to  the 
house  prepared  for  us  is,  that  our  home  might  be  made 
the  sweeter  to  us. 

Well  said  Samuel,  quoth  the  guide  ;  thou  hast  now 
spoke  like  a  man.  Why,  if  ever  I  get  out  here  again, 
said  the  boy,  I  think  I  shall  prize  light  and  good  way 
better  than  ever  I  dii  in  my  life.  Then  said  the  guide, 
We  shall  be  out  by  and  by. 

So  on  they  went,  and  Joseph  said,  Cannot  we  see  to 
the  end  of  this  valley  as  yet  ?  Then  said  the  guide, 
Look  to  your  feet,  for  we  shall  presently  be  among 
snares.  So  they  looked  to  their  feet  and  went  on  ;  but 
they  were  troubled  much  with  the  snares.  Now  when 
they  were  come  among  the  snares,  they  espied  a  man 
cast  into  the  ditch  on  the  left  hand,  with  las  flesh  all 
rent  and  t^rn.  rShen  said  the  guide,  That  is  one  Heed- 
less, that  was  going  this  way  ;  he  has  lain  there  a  great 
while:  There  was  one  Takeheed  with  him  when  he  was 
taken  and  slain  ;  but  he  escaped  their  hand.  You  can- 
not imagine  how  many  are  killed  hereabouts,  and  yet 
men  are  so  foolishly  venturous,  as  to  set  out:  lightly  on 
pilgrimage,  and  to  come  without  a  guide.  Poor  Chris- 
tian !  it  was  a  wonder  that  he  here  escaped ;  but  he  was 
beloved  of  his  God  :  also  he  had  a  good  heart  of  his 
own,  or  else  he  could  never  have  done  it.  Now  they 
drew  towards  the  end  of  the  way,  and  just  there  where 
Christian  had  seen  the  cave  when  he  went  by,  out  thence 
came  forth  Maul,  a  giant.  This  Maul  did  use  to  spoil 
young  pilgrims  with  sophistry,  and  he  called  Great-heart 
by  his  name,  and  said  unto  him,  How  many  times  have 
you  been  forbidden  to  do  these  things  ?  Then  said  Mr. 
Great-heart,  What  things  ?  What  things  !  quoth  the 
giant ;  you  know  what  things  :  but  I  will  put  an  end  to 
your  trade.  But,  pray,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  before  we 
fall  to  it,  let  us  understand  wherefore  we  must  fight. 
(Now  the  women  and  children  stood  trembling,  and 
knew  not  what  to  do  ) — Quoth  the  giant,  You  rob  the 
country,  and  rob  it  with  the  worst  of  thieves.  These 
are  but  generals,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  come  to  partic- 
ulars, man. 

Then  said  the  giant,  Thou  practisest  the  craft  of  a 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  249 

kidnapper,  thcu  gatherest  up  women  and  children,  and 
earnest  them  into  a  strange  country,  to  the  weakening 
of  my  Master's  kingdom.  But  now  Great-heart  repli- 
ed, I  am  a  servant  of  the  God  of  heaven ;  my  business 
is  to  persuade  sinners  to  repentance  :  I  am  command- 
ed to  do  my  endeavor  to  turn  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  die  power  of  Sa- 
tan to  God;  and  if  this  be  indeed  the  ground  of  thy 
quarrel  lee  us  fall  to  it  as  soon  as  thou  wilt. 

Then  the  giant  came  up,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went 
to  meet  him  ;  and  as  he  went  he  drew  his  sword,  but 
the  giant  had  a  club.  So  without  more  ado  they  fell  to 
it, and  at  the  first  blow  the  giant  struck  Mr.  Great- heart 
down  upon  one  of  his  knees  ;  with  that  the  women  and 
children  cried  :  so  Mr.  Great-heart  recovering  himself, 
laid  about  him  in  a  full  lusty  manner,  and  gave  the  gi- 
ant a  wound  in  his  arm  ;  that  he  fought  for  the  space 
of  an  hour,  to  that  height  of  heat,  that  the  breath  came 
out  of  the  giant's  nostrils,  as  the  heat  doth  out  of  a  boil- 
ing cauldron. 

Then  they  sat  down  to  rest  them,  but  Mr.  Great- heart 
betook  himself  to  prayer  ;  also  the  women  and  children 
did  nothing  but  sigh  and  cry  all  the  time  that  the  battle 
did  last. 

When  they  had  rested  them,  and  taken  breath,  they 
both  fell  to  it  again,  and  Mr.  Great-heart,  with  a  full 
blow,  fetched  the  giant  down  to  the  ground  :  Nay,  hold, 
let  me  recover,  quoth  he.  So  Mr.  Great-heart  let  him 
fairly  get  up  :  so  to  it  they  went  again,  and  the  giant 
missed  but  a  little  of  breaking  Mr.  Great-heart's  skuli 
with  his  club. 

Mr.  Great-heart  seeing  that,  runs  to  him  in  the  full 
heat  of  his  spirit,  and  pierced  him  under  the  fifth  rib; 
with  that  the  giant  began  to  faint,  and  could  hold  up  his 
club  no  longer.  Then  Mr.  Great-heart  seconded  his 
blow,  and  smote  the  head  of  the  giant  from  his  should- 
ers. Then  the  women  and  children  rejoiced,  and  Mr. 
Great-heart  also  praised  God  for  the  deliveiance  he 
had  wrought. 

When  this  was  done,  they  among  themselves  erected 
a  pillar,  and  fastened  the  giant's  head  thereon,  and  wrote 
under  it,  in  letters  that  passengers  might  read. 


2b0  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

He  that  did  wear  this  head,  was  one 

That  pilgrims  did  misuse  ; 
He  stopp'd  their  way,  he  spared  none, 

But  did  them  all  abuse  ; 
Until  that  I  Great-heart  arose, 

The  pilgrims'  guide  to  be  ! 
Until  that  I  did  him  oppose, 

That  was  their  <Hiemy. 

Now  I  saw  that  they  went  to  the  ascent  that  was  a  lit- 
tle way  off,  cast  up  to  be  a  prospect  for  pilgrims  (that 
was  the  place  from  whence  Christian  had  the  first  sight 
of  Faithful  his  brother.)  Wherefore  here  they  sat  down, 
and  rested,  they  also  did  here  eat  and  drink,  and  made 
merry  ;  for  they  had  gotten  deliverance  from  this  so 
dangerous  an  enemy.  As  they  sat  thus  and  did  eat, 
Christiana  asked  the  guide.  If  he  had  caught  no  hurt  in 
the  battle  r  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  no,  save  a  little 
on  my  flesh  ;  yet  that  also  shall  be  so  far  from  being  to 
my  detriment)  that  it  is  at  present  a  proof  of. rny  love  to 
my  master  and  you,  and  shall  be  a  means,  by  grace,  to 
increase  my  reward  at  last. 

But  was  you  not  afraid,  good  Sir,  when  you  saw  him 
come  with  his  club  ? 

It  is  my  duty,  said  he,  to  mistrust  my  own  ability,  that 
I  may  have  reliance  on  him  that  is  stronger  than  all. 
But  what  did  you  think,  when  he  fetched  you  down  to 
the  ground  at  the  first  blow  ?  Why,  I  thought,  quoth 
he,  that  so  my  master  himself  was  served,  and  yet  he  it 
was  tint  conquered  at  last.* 

Aiatt.  When  you  all  have  thought  what  you  please, 
I  think  God  has  been  wonderful  good  unto  us,  both  in 
bringing  us  out  of  this  valley,  and  delivering  us  out  of 
the  hand  of  this  enemy  ;  for  my  part  I  see  no  reason 
why  we  should  distrust  our  God  any  more,  since  he  has 
now,  and  in  such  a  place  as  this,  given  us  such  testi- 
mony of  his  love  as  this. 

Then  they  got  v.p,  and  went  forward  :  now  a  little  be- 
fore them  stood  an  oak,  and  under  it,  when  they  came 
:o  it,  they  found  an  old  pilgrim  fast  asleep  :  they  knew 
that  he  was  a  pilgrim  by  his  clothes,  and  his  staff,  and 
his  girdle, 

*  2  Cor.  \v. 


THR    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  251 

So  the  guide,  Mr.  Great- heart,  awaked  him  ;  and  the 
old  gentleman,  as  he  lift  up  his  eyes,  ciied  out,  What's 
the  matter  I  Who  are  you  ?  And  what  is  your  business 
here  i 

Gr.-h.  Come,  man,  be  not  so  hot,  here  is  none  but 
friends  :  yet  the  old  man  gets  up,  and  stands  upon  his 
guard,  aiid  will  know  cf  them  what  thty  were.  Then 
said  the  guide,  My  name  is  Great-heart,  I  am  a  guide 
of  these  pilgrims,  which  are  going  to  the  Celestial 
country. 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  I  cry  you  mercy  ;  I  feared  that 
you  had  been  of  the  company  of  those  that  some  time 
ago  did  rob  tattle-faith  of  his  n.oney,  but  now  1  look 
better  about  me,  I  perceive  ycu  are  henester  people. 

Gr.-h.  Why,  what  would,  or  could  you  have  dene, 
to  have  helped  yourself,  if  we  indeed  had  been  of  that 
company  ? 

Hon.  Done  !  Why,  I  would  have  fought  as  long  as 
breath  had  been  in  rne :  and  had  I  so  done,  I  am  sure 
you  could  never  have  given  me  the  worst  on't ;  for  a 
Christian  can  never  be  overcome  unless  he  should  yield 
of  himself. 

Gr.-h.  Well  said,  father  Honest,  quoth  the  guide; 
for  by  this  I  know  thou  art  a  cock  of  the  right  kind,  for 
thou  hast  said  the  truth. 

Hon.  And  by  this  also  I  know  that  thou  knowest 
what  true  pilgrimage  is  ;  for  all  others  do  think  that 
we  are  the  soonest  overcome  ot  any. 

Gr.-h.  Wei),  now  we  are  happily  met,  pray  let  mc 
crave  your  name,  and  the  name  of  the  place  you  came 
from  ? 

Hon.  My  name  I  cannot,  but  I  came  from  the  town 
of  Stupidity  :  it  lieth  about  four  degrees  beyond  the  ci- 
ty of  Destruction. 

Gr.-h.  Oh  !  are  you  that  countryman  ?  then  I  deem 
I  have  half  a  guess  of  you,  your  name  is  old  Honest,  is 
it  not?  So  the  old  gentleman  blushed, and  said, not  hon- 
est in  the  abstract,  but  Honest  is  my  name,  and  I  wish 
that  my  nature  may  agree  t©  what  I  am  called. 

Hon.  But,  sir,  said  the  old  gentleman,  how  could  you 
guess  that  I  am  such  a  man;  since  I  came  from  such  a 
place  ? 

Gr,-h.  I  had  heard  of  you  before,  by  my  master  j  for 


252 

he  knows  all  things  that  are  clone  on  the  earth  :  But  I 
have  often  wondered  that  any  should  come  iVom  your 
place,  for  your  town  is  worse  than  is  the  c<ty  of  De- 
struction itself. 

Hen.  Yea,  we  lie  more  off  from  the  sun,  and  so  arc 
more  cold  and  senseless  ;  but  was  a  man  in  a  mountain 
of  ice,  ye:  if  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  will  arise  upon 
him,  his  frozen  heart  shall  feel  a  thaw  ;  and  thus  it  has 
been  with  rnc. 

Gr.-h.  1  believe  it,  father  Honest,  I  believe  it;  for  I 
know  the  thing  is  true. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  saluted  all  the  pilgrims  with 
a  holy  kiss  of  charity,  and  asked  them  cf  their  names, 
and  how  they  had  fared  since  they  set  out  on  their  pil- 
grimage. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  my  name,  I  suppose,  you 
have  heard  of;  good  Christian  was  my  husband,  and 
these  four  were  his  children.  But  can  you  think  how 
the  old  gentleman  was  taken,  when  she  told  him  who 
she  was !  He  skipped,  he  smiled,  and  blessed  them  with 
a  thousand  good  wishes,  saying  : 

Hon.  I  have  heard  much  of  your  husband,  and  of 
his  travels  and  wars,  which  he  underwent  in  his  days. 
Be  it  spoken  to  your  comfort,  the  name  of  your  husband 
rings  ail  over  these  parts  of  the  world  ;  his  faith,  his 
courage,  his  enduring,  and  his  sincerity  under  all,  has 
made  his  name  famous.  Then  he  turned  to  the  boys, 
and  asked  them  of  their  names,  which  they  told  him  : 
and  then  said  he  unto  them,  Matthew  be  thou  like  Mat- 
thew the  publican,  not  in  vice,  but  in  virtue.*  Samuel 
saith  he,  be  thou  like  Samuel  the  prophet,  a  man  of  faith 
and  prayer. t  Joseph,  saith  he,  be  thou  like  .Joseph  in 
Potiphar's  house,  chaste,  and  one  that  flees  from  temp- 
tation.|  And  James,  be  thou  like  James  the  just,  and 
like  James  *he  brother  of  our  Lord.}  Then  they  told 
him  of  Mercy,  and  how  she  had  left  her  town  and  her 
kindred  to  come  along  with  Christiana,  and  with  her 
sons.  At  that  the  old  honest  man  said,  Mercy  is  thy 
name  :  by  mercy  shalt  thou  be  sustained,  and  carried 
through  all  those  difficulties  that  shall  assault  thee  in 

*  Matt.  x.  3.    \  JPs.  xeix.  6.    {Gen.  xxxix,    %  Acts  i.  13,  U 


THE    PILGRIM'S   PROGRESS.  253 

thy  way,  till  thou  shalt  come  thither  where  thou  shalt 
look  the  fountain  of  mercy  in  the  face  with  comfort. 

All  this  while  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart,  was  very 
well  pleased,  and  smiled  upon  his  companions. 

Now,  as  they  walked  together,  the  guide  asked  the 
old  gentleman  if  he  did  not  know  one  Mr.JFearing,  that 
came  on  pilgrimage  out  of  his  paits  ? 

lion.  Yes,  very  well,  said  he.  He  was  a  man  that  had 
the  root  of  the  matter  in  him  ;  but  he  was  one  of  the 
most  troublesome  pilgrims  that  I  ever  met  with  in  all 
my  days. 

Gr.-h.  I  perceive  you  knew  him  ;  for  you  have  given 
a  very  right  character  of  him. 

Hon.  Knew  bim  !  I  was  a  great  companion  of  his  :  I 
was  with  him  most  an  end  ;  when  he  first  began  to 
think  what  would  come  upon  us  hereafter,  I  was  with 
him. 

Gr.-h.  I  was  his  guide  from  my  master's  house  to  the 
gate  of  the  Celestial  city. 

Hon.  Then  you  knew  him  to  be  a  troublesome  one. 

Gr.-h.  I  did  so ;  but  I  could  very  well  bear  it ;  for 
men  of  my  calling  are  oftentimes  entrusted  with  the 
'  conduct  of  such  as  he  was. 

Hon.  Well  then,  pray  let  us  hear  a  little  of  him,  and 
how  he  managed  himself  under  your  conduct. 

Gr.-h.  Why,  he  was  always  afraid  that  he  should 
come  short  whither  he  had  a  desire  to  go.  Every  thing 
frightened  him  that  he  heard  any  body  speak  of,  that  had 
but  the  least  appearance  of  opposition  in  it  I  heard 
that  he  lay  roaring  at  the  slough  of  Despond,  for  above 
a  month  together;  nor  durst  he,  for  all  he  saw  several 
go  over  before  him,  venture,  though  they,  many  of  them 
offered  to  lend  him  their  hand.  He  would  not  go  back 
again  neither.  The  Celestial  city  !  he  said,  he  should 
die  if  he  came  not  to  it  ;  and  yet  was  dejected  at  every 
difficulty,  and  stumbled  at  every  straw  that  any  body 
cast  in  his  way.  Well,  after  he  had  lain  at  the  slough 
of  Despond  a  great  while,  as  I  have  told  you5  one  sun- 
shine morning,  I  don't  know  how,  he  ventured,  and  so 
got  over  ;  but  when  he  was  over  he  would  scarce  be- 
lieve it.  He  had.  I  think  a  slough  oj  Desfiond  in  his 
mind,  a  slough  that  he  carried  every  where  with  him, 

X 


254  TflE  pilgrim's  proqhess. 

or  else  he  could  never  have  been  as  he  was.  So  he 
came  up  to  the  gate  (you  know  what  I  mean) that  stands 
at  U.e  head  of  this  way  ;  and  there  also  he  stood  a  good 
while  before  he  would  venture  to  knock.  When  the 
gate  was  opened,  he  would  give  back,  and  give  place 
to  ethers,  and  say,  that  he  was  not  worthy  :  for  all  he 
got  before  some  to  the  gate,  yet  many  of  them  went  in 
before  him.  There  the  poor  man  would  stand  shaking 
and  shrinking  ;  I  dare  say  it  would  have  pitied  one's 
heart  to  have  seen  him  :  nor  would  he  go  back  again. 
At  last  he  took  the  hammer  that  hanged  at  the  gate  in 
his  hand,  and  gave  a  small  rap  or  two  :  then  one  open- 
ed to  him,  but  he  shrunk  back  as  before.  He  that  open- 
ed>  stepped  out  after  him,  and  said,  !  Thou  trembling 
one,  what  wantest  thou  V  With  that  he  fell  to  the  ground. 
He  that  spake  to  him,  wondered  to  see  him  so  faint. 
He  said  to  him,  *  Peace  to  thee  ;  up,  for  I  have  set  o- 
pen  the  door  to  thee  ;  come  in,  for  thou  art  blessed.' 
With  that  he  got  up,  and  went  in  trembling;  and  when 
that  he  was  in,  he  was  ashamed  to  show  his  face. 
Well  after  he  had  been  entertained  there  awhile  (as  you 
know  how  the  manner  is)  he  was  bid  to  go  on  his  way, 
and  also  told  the  way  he  should  take.  So  he  went  till 
he  came  to  our  house  :  but  as  he  behaved  himself  at 
the  gate  so  he  did  at  my  master  the  Interpreter's  door. 
He  lay  thereabout  in  the  cold  a  good  while,  before  he 
would  venture  to  call ;  yet  he  would  not  go  back  :  and 
the  nights  were  long  and  cold  then.  Nay,  he  had  a 
note  of  necessity  in  his  bosom  to  my  master,  to  receive 
him,  and  grant  him  the  comforts  of  the  house,  and  also 
to  allow  him  a  stout  and  valiant  conductor,  because  he 
was  himself  so  chicken-hearted  a  man  ;  and  yet,  for  all 
that,  he  was*  afraid  to  call  at  the  door.  So  he  lav  up 
and  down  thereabouts,  till,  poor  man !  he  was  almost 
starved:  yea,  so  great  was  his  dejection,  that,  though 
he  saw  several  others  for  knocking  p;ot  in,  yet  he  was 
afraid  to  venture.  At  last,  I  think  I  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and,  perceiving  a  man  to  be  up  and  down  about 
the  door,  I  went  out  to  him,  and  asked  what  he  was  ; 
but,  poor  man  !  the  water  stood  in  his  eyes  :  so  I  per- 
ceived what  he  wanted.  I  went  therefore  in,  and  told 
it  in  the  house,  and  wc  showed  the  things  to  our  Lord  : 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  255 

so  he  sent  me  out  again  to  intreat  him  to  come  in  ;  but 
I  dare  say,  1  had  hard  work  to  do  it.  At  last,  he  came 
in  ;  and,  I  will  say  that  for  my  Lord,  he  carried  it  won- 
derfully loving  to  him.  There  were  but  a  few  good 
bits  at  the  table,  but  some  of  it  was  laid  upon  his  trench- 
er. Then  he  presented  the  note  ;  and  my  Lord  looked 
thereon,  and  said  his  desire  should  be  granted.  So 
when  he  had  been  there  a  good  while,  he  seemed  to  get 
some  heart,  and  to  be  a  little  more  comforted.  For 
my  master,  you  must  know,  is  one  of  very  tender  bow- 
els, especially  to  them  that  are  afraid  :  whei  efore  he 
carried  it  so  towards  him,  as  might  tend  most  to  his  en- 
couragement.— Well,  when  he  had  a  sight  of  the  things 
of  the  place,  and  was  ready  to  take  his  journey  to  go  to 
the  city,  my  Lord,  as  he  did  to  Christian  before,  gave 
him  a  bottle  of  spirits,  and  some  comfortable  things  to 
eat.  Thus  we  set  forward,  and  I  went  befoie  him  :  Out 
the  man  was  of  but  few  words,  only  he  would  sigh  aloud. 

When  we  were  come  to  where  the  three  fellows 
were  hanged,  he  said,  that  he  doubted  that  that  would 
be  his -end  also.  Only  he  seemed  glad  when  he  saw 
the  Cross  and  the  sepulchre.  There  I  confess  he  de- 
sired to  stay  a  little  to  look,  and  he  seemed  for  a  while 
-after  to  be  a  little  comforted.  When  we  came  at  the 
hill  Difficulty,  he  made  no  stick  at  that,  nor  did  he  much 
fear  the  lions  :  for  you  must  know,  that  his  trouble  was 
not  about  such  things  as  these,  his  fear  was  about  his 
acceptance  at  last. 

I  got  him  in  at  the  house  Beautiful,  I  think,  before 
he  was  willing  :  also  when  he  was  in,  I  brought  him  ac- 
quainted with  the  damsels  that  were  of  the  place,  but 
he  was  ashamed  to  make  himself  much  for  company  : 
he  desired  much  to  be  alone,  yet  he  always  loved  good 
talk,  and  often  would  get  behind  the  screen  to  hear  it : 
he  also  loved  mucrito  see  ancient  things,  and  to  be  pon- 
dering them  in  his  mind.  He  told  me  afterwards,  that 
he  loved  to  be  in  those  two  houses  from  which  he  came 
last,  to  wit,  at  the  gate,  and  that  of  the  Interpreter,  but 
that  he  durst  not  be  so  bold  as  to  ask. 

When  he  went  also  from  the  house  Beautiful,  down 
the  hill,  into  the  valley  of  Humiliation,  he  went  down  as 
well  as  ever  I  saw  a  man  in  my  life ;  for  he  cared  not 


256 

how  mean  he  was,  so  he  might  be  happy  at  last.  Yea, 
I  think  there  was  a  kind  of  sympathy  betwixt  that  valley 
and  him  ;  for  I  never  saw  him  better  in  all  his  pilgri- 
mage, than  he  was  in  that  valley. 

Here  he  would  lie  down,  embrace  the  ground,  and 
kiss  the  very  flowers  that  grew  in  that  valley.*  He 
would  now  be  up  every  morning  by  break  of  day,  tra- 
cing and  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  valley. 

But  when  he  was  come  to  the  entrance  of  the  valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  1  thought  I  should  have  lost 
my  man  :  not  for  that  he  had  inclination  to  go  back  (that 
he  always  abhorred)  but  he  was  ready  to  die  for  fear. 
*  Oh,  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me,  the  hobgoblins  will 
have  me  !'  cried  he  ;  and  I  could  not  beat  him  out  on't, 
He  made  such  a  noise,  and  such  an  outcry  here,  that 
had  they  but  heard  him,  it  was  enough  to  encourage 
them  to  come  and  fall  upon  us.  But  this  I  took  very 
great  notice  of,  that  this  valley  was  as  quiet  when  we 
went  through  it,  as  ever  1  knew  it  before  or  since.  I 
suppose  those  here  had  now  a  special  check  from  our 
Lord,  and  a  command  not  to  meddle  until  Mr.  Fearing 
Was  passed  over  it. 

It  w^uld  be  too  tedious  to  tell  you  of  all ;  we  will 
therefore  only  mention  a  passage  or  two  more.  When 
he  was  come  to  Vanity  Fair,  I  thought  he  would  have 
fought  with  all  the  men  in  the  fair :  I  feared  there  we 
should  both  have  been  knocked  on  the  head,  so  hot  was 
he  against  their  fooleries.  Upon  the  enchanted  ground, 
he  also  was  very  wakeful.  But,  when  he  was  come  at 
the  river  where  was  no  bridge,  there  again  he  was  in 
a  heavy  case :  '  Now,  now,'  he  said,  *  he  should  be 
drowned  for  ever,  and  so  never  see  that  face  with  com- 
fort, that  he  had  come  so  many  miles  to  behold.'  And 
here  also  I  took  notice  of  what  was  very  remarkable — 
the  water  of  that  river  was  lower  at  this  time,  than  ever 
I  saw  it  in  all  my  life  :  so  he  went  over  at  last,  not 
much  above  wet-shod.  When  he  was  going  up  to  the 
gate,  Mr.  Great- heart  began  to  take  his  leave  of  him, 
and  to  wish  him  a  good  reception  above  ;  so  he  said, 
4  I  shall,  I  shall :'  then  parted  we  asunder,  and  I  saw 
him  no  more. 

*  Lam-  iii  27—2?. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  257 

Hon.  Then  it  seems,  he  was  well  at  last  ? 

Gr.-h.  Yes,  yes,  I  never  had  doubt  about  him  ;  he 
was  a  man  of  a  choice  spirit :  only  he  was  always  kept 
very  low,  and  that  made  his  life  so  burdensome  to  him- 
self, and  so  very  troublesome  to  others.*  He  was,  above 
many,  tender  of  sin  ;  he  was  so  afraid  of  doing  injuries 
to  others,  that  he  would  often  deny  himself  of  that  which 
was  lawful,  because  he  would  not  offend.f 

Hon.  But  what  should  be  the  reason  that  such  a  good 
man  should  be  all  his  days  so  much  in  the  dark. 

Gr.-h.  There  are  two  sorts  of  reasons  for  it  :  one  is, 
The  wise  God  will  have  it  so  ;  some  must  pipe  and 
some  must  weep  i\  now  Mr.  Fearing  was  one  that  play- 
ed upon  the  bass.  He  and  his  feilows  sound  the  sack- 
but,  whose  notes  are  more  doleful  than  notes  of  other 
music  are  :  though  indeed,  some  say,  the  bass  is  the 
ground  of  music.  And,  for  my  part,  I  care  not  at  all  for 
that  profession,  that  begins  not  in  heaviness  of  mind. 
The  first  string  that  the  musician  usually  touches,  is 
the  bass,  when  he  intends  to  put  all  in  tune  :  God  also 
plays  upon  this  string  first,  when  he  sets  the  soul  in 
tune  for  himself.  Only  there  was  the  imperfection  of 
Mr.  Fearing,  he  could  play  upon  no  other  music  but 
this,  till  towards  his  latter  end. 

[1  make  bold  to  talk  thus  metaphorically,  for  the 
ripening  of  the  wits  of  young  readers  ;  and  because,  in 
the  book  of  Revelations,  the  saved  are  compared  to  a 
company  oT  musicians,  that  play  upon  their  trumpets 
and  harps,  and  sing  their  songs  before  the  throne.]? 

Hon.  He  was  a  very  zealous  man,  as  one  may  see  by 
what  relation  you  have  given  of  him.  Difficulties,  li- 
ons, or  Vanity  FSr,  he  feared  not  at  all  :  it  was  only 
sin,  death  and  hell,  that  were  to  fcim  a  terror  ;  because 
he  had  some  doubts  about  his  interest  in  that  Celestial 
country. 

Gr.-h.  You  say  right ;  those  were  the  things  that  were 
his  troubles  ;  and  they,  as  you  have  well  observed,  a- 
rose  from  the  weakness  of  his  mind  thereabout,  not 
from  weakness  of  spirit  as  to  the  practical  part  of  a  pil- 
grim's life.     1  dare  believe  that,  as  the  proverb  is,  •  He 

*  Ps.  Ixxxviii.  -fRoraxiv.il.     1  Cor.  viii.13, 

X  Matt.  xi.  16—18.    $  Rev.  viii.  xiv.  2,  £. 
X  2 


2;8 

could  have  bit  a  fire-brand,  had  it  stood  in  his  way  :'  but 
those  things,  with  which  he  was  oppressed,  no  man  ev- 
er yet  could  shake  off  with  ease. 

Then  said  Christiana,  this  relation  of  Mr.  Fearing  has 
done  me  good  :  I  thought  nobody  had  been  like  me : 
but  I  see  there  is  some  semblance  betwixt  this  good 
man  and  I :  only  we  differ  in  two  things  :  his  troubles 
were  so  great  that  they  brake  out ;  but  mine  I  kept 
"within.  His  also  lay  so  hard  upon  him,  they  made  him 
that  he  could  not  knock  at  the  houses  provided  for  en- 
tertainment :  but  my  troubles  were  always  such,  as 
mide  me  knock  the  louder. 

Mer.  If  I  might  also  speak  my  mind,  I  must  say, 
that  something  of  him  has  also  dwelt  in  me  ;  for  I  have 
ever  been  more  afraid  of  the  lake,  and  the  loss  of  a  place 
in  paradise,  than  I  have  been  at  the  loss  of  other  things. 
O  thought  I,  may  I  have  the  happiness  to  have  a  habit- 
ation there,  it  is  enough,  though  1  part  with  all  the  worid 
to  win  it. 

Then  said  Matthew,  Fear  was  one  thing  that  made 
me  think  that  I  was  far  from  having  that  within  me 
that  accompanies  salvation  ;  but  if  it  was  so  with  such 
a  good  man  as  he,  why  may  it  not  also  go  well  with  me  \ 
No  fears,  no  grace,  said  James.  Though  there  is  not 
always  grace  where  there  is  the  fear  of  hell  ;  yet  to  be 
sure,  there  is  no  grace  where  there  is  no  fear  of  God. 

Gr.-h*  Well  said,  James ;  thou  hast  hit  the  mark  : 
for  the  fear  of  God  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom  ;  and,  to 
be  sure,  they  that  want  the  beginning  have  neither  mid- 
dle nor  end.  But  we  will  here  conclude  our  discourse 
of  Mr.  Fearing,  after  we  have  sent  after  him  his  fare- 
well. 

•  Whilst,  master  Fearing,  thou  didst  fear 

Thy  God,  who  wast  afraid 
-Of  doing  anything,  while  here, 

That  would  have  thee  betray'd  : 
And  didst  thou  fear  the  lake  and  pit  ? 

Would  others  did  so  too  : 
For,  as  for  them  that  want  thy  wit, 

liej  do  themselves  undo.' 

Now  I  saw  that  they  all  went  on  in  their  talk  ;  for, 
after  Mr.  Great-heart  had  made  an  end  with  Mr.  Fear- 
b&  Mr.  Honest  began  to  tell  them  of  another,  but  hia 


THE    PILGRIM'S   PROGRESS.  259 

aame  was  Mr.  Self-will.  He  pretended  himself  to  be  a 
pilgrim,  said  Mr.  Honest ;  but,  I  persuade  myself,  he 
never  came  in  at  the  gate  that  stands  at  the  head  of  the 
Way. 

Gr.-h.  Had  you  ever  any  talk  with  bim  about  it  ? 

Hon,  Yes,  more  than  once  or  twice  :  but  he  would 
always  be  like  himself,  Self-iviiicd.  He  neither  cared 
for  man,  nor  argument,  nor  example ;  what  his  mind 
prompted  him  to,  that  he  would  do  i  and  nothing  else 
could  he  be  got  to  do. 

Gr.-h.  Pray  what  principles  did  he  hold  ?  for  I  sup- 
pose you  can  tell. 

Hon.  He  held  that  a  man  might  follow  the  vices  as 
well  as  the  virtues  of  the  pilgrims ;  and  that  if  he  did 
both,  he  should  be  certainly  saved. 

Gr.-h.  How  !  if  he  had  said,  it  is  possible  for  the  best 
to  be  guilty  of  the  vices,  as  well  as  partake  of  the  virtues 
of  pilgrims,  he  could  not  much  have  been  blamed. 
For  indeed  we  are  exempted  from  no  vice  absolutely, 
but  on  condition  that  we  watch  and  strive.  But  this,  I 
perceive,  is  not  the  thing  :  but,  if  I  understand  you 
right,  your  meaning  is  that  he  was  of  that  opinion,  that 
it  was  allowable  so  to  be. 

Hon.  Ay,  ay,  so  I  mean  ;  and  so  he  believed  and 
practised. 

Gr.-h.  But  what  grounds  had  he  for  so  saying  ? 

Hon,  Why,  he  said  he  had  the  scripture  for  his  war- 
rant. 

Gr.-h.  Pry'thee,  Mr.  Honest  present  us  with  a  few 
particulars. 

Hon.  So  I  will.  He  said,  to  have  to  do  with  other 
men's  wives  had  been  practised  by  David,  Goers  belo- 
ved, and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  to  have 
more  women  than  one,  was  a  thing  that  Solomon  prac- 
tised ;  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  that  Sa- 
rah and  the  godly  midwives  of  Egypt  lied,  and  so  did 
Rahab  ;  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  that 
the  disciples  went,  at  the  bidding  of  their  master,  and 
took  away  the  owner's  ass  ;  and  therefore  he  could  do 
sg  too.  He  said,  that  Jacob  got  the  inheritance  of  his 
father  in  a  way  of  guile  and  dissimulation  5  and  there- 
tore  he  could  do  so  too. 


k2o0  j    THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

Gr.-h.  High  base,  indeed  !  and  are  you  sure  he  was 
of  this  opinion  ? 

Hon.  I  have  heard  him  plead  for  it,  Jjring  scripture 
for  it,  bring  arguments  for  it,  &c. 

Gr.h.  An  opinion  that  is  not  fit  to  be  with  any  al- 
lowance in  the  world ! 

Hon.  You  must  understand  me  rightly  ;  he  did  not 
say  that  any  man  might  do  this  ;  but  that  those,  that  had 
the  virtues  of  those  that  did  such  things,  might  also  do 
the  same. 

Gr.-h.  But  what  mere  false  than  such  a  conclusion  ? 
for  this  is  as  much  as  to  say*  that,  because  good  men 
heretofore  sinned  of  infirmity,  therefore  he  had  allow- 
ance to  do  it  of  a  piesumptuous  mind  :  or  if,  because  a 
child,  by  the  blast  of  wind,  or  for  that  it  stumbled  at  a 
stone,  fell  down,  and  defiled  itself  in  mire,  therefore  he 
might  wilfully  lie  down  and  wallow  like  a  boar  therein. 
"\\  ho  could  have  thought  that  any  one  could  so  far 
have  been  blinded  by  the  power  of  lust  ?  But  what  is 
■written  must  be  true  :  "  they  stumble  at  the  word,  being 
disobedient ;  whereunto  also  they  were  appointed."* 
His  supposing  that  such  may  have  the  godly  man's  vir- 
tues, who  addict  themselves  to  his  vices,  is  also  a  delu- 
sion as  strong  as  the  other.  It  is  just  as  if  the  dog 
should  say,  '  I  have,  or  may  have  the  qualities  of  a 
child,  because  I  lick  up  its  stinking  excrements.'  "  To 
cat  up  the  sin  of  God's  people,"f  is  no  sign  of  one  that 
is  possessed  with  their  virtues.  Nor  can  I  believe,  that 
one  that  is  of  this  opinion,  can  at  preserfc  have  faith  or 
love  in  him. — But  I  know  you  have  made  strong  objec- 
tions against  him  ;  pr'ythee  what  can  he  say  for  him- 
self? 

Hon.  Why,  he  says,  to  do  this  by  way  of  opinion, 
seems  to  be  abundantly  more  honest  than  to  do  it,  and 
yet  hold  contrary  to  it  in  opinion. 

Gr.-h.  A  very  wicked  answer;  for,  though  to  let 
loose  the  bridle  to  lusts,  while  our  opinions  are  against 
such  things,  is  bad  ;  yet  to  sin,  and  plead  a  toleration  so 
to  do,  is  worse :  the  one  stumbles  beholders  accident- 
ally, the  other  leads  them  into  the  snare. 

Hon.  There  are  many  of  this  man's  mind,  that  have 

*  Hos.  iv.  3.  t  Pet.  ii.  8. 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  261 

not  this  man's  mouth  ;  and  that  makes  going  on  pilgri- 
mage of  so  little  esteem  as  it  is. 

Gr.h.  You  have  said  the- truth,  and  it  is  to  be  lamen- 
ted :  but  he  that  feareth  the  King  of  Paradise  shall 
come  out  of  them  all. 

Chr.  There  are  strange  opinions  in  the  world  :  I 
know  one  that  said  it  was  time  enough  to  repent  when 
he  came  to  die. 

Gr.-h.  Such  are  not  over-wise  :  that  man  would  have 
been  loath,  might  he  have  had  a  week  to  run  twenty 
miles  for  his  life,  to  have  deferred  that  journey  to  the 
last  hour  of  that  week. 

Hon.  You  say  right  j  and  yet  the  generality  of  them 
that  count  themselves  pilgrims  do  indeed  do  thus.  I 
am,  as  you  see,  an  old  man,  and  have  been  a  traveller 
in  this  road  many  a  day  ;  and  I  have  taken  notice  of  ma- 
ny things. 

I  have  seen  some,  that  set  out  as  if  they  would  drive 
all  the  world  afore  them,  who  yet  have,  in  a  few  days, 
died  as  they  in  the  wilderness,  and  so  never  got  sight  of 
the  promised  land — I  have  seen  some,  that  have  prom- 
ised nothing,  at  first  setting  out  to  be  pilgrims,  and  that 
one  would  have  thought  could  not  have  lived  a  day, 
that  have  yet  proved  very  good  pilgrims- — I  have  seen 
some,  who  have  run  hastily  forward,  that  again  have,  af- 
ter a  little  time,  run  as  fast  just  back  again. — I  have 
seen  some,  who  have  spoken  very  well  of  a  pilgrim's 
life  at  first,  that  after  a  while,  have  spoken  as  much  a- 
gainst  it. — I  have  heard  some,  when  they  first  set  out 
for  Paradise,  say  positively,  '  There  is  such  a  place  ; 
who,  when  they  had  been  almost  there,  have  come  back 
again,  and  said,  <  There  is  none.' — I  have  heard  some 
vaunt  what  they  would  do,  in  case  they  should  be  op- 
posed, that  have,  even  at  a  false  alarm,  fled  faith,  the 
pilgrim's  way,  and  all. 

Now  as  they  were  thus  in  their  way,  there  came  one 
running  to  meet  them,  and  said,  *  Gentlemen,  and  you 
of  the  weaker  sort,  if  you  love  life,  shift  for  yourselves, 
for  the  robbers  are  before  yon.' 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  They  be  the  three  that 
set  upon  Little-faith  heretofore.  Well,  said  he,  we  are 
ready  for  them.  So  they  went  on  their  way.  Now, 
they  looked  at  every  turning  when  they  should  have 


262 

met  with  the  villains  ;  but,  whether  they  heard  of  Mr. 
Great-heart,  or  whether  they  had  some  other  game, 
they  came  not  up  to  the  pilgrims. 

Christiana  then  wished  for  an  inn  for  herself  and  her 
children,  because  they  were  weary.  Then  said  Mr. 
Honest,  '  There  is  one  a  little  before  us,  where  a  very 
honorable  disciple,  one  Gaius,  dwells.'*  So  they  all 
concluded  to  turn  in  thither  :  and  the  rather,  because 
the  old  gentleman  gave  him  so  good  a  report. — So  when 
they  came  to  the  door,  they  went  in,  not  knocking  ;  for 
folks  use  nr>t  to  knock  at  the  door  of  an  inn.  Then  they 
called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  and  he  came  to  them. 
So  they  asked  if  they  might  lie  there  that  night  ? 

Gai.  Yes,  gentlemen,  if  you  be  true  men,  for  my 
house  is  for  none  but  pilgrims.  Then  Avas  Christiana, 
Mercy,  and  the  boys,  more  glad,  for  that  the  inn-keep- 
er was  a  lover  of  pilgrims.  So  they  called  for  rooms, 
and  he  showed  them  one  for  Christiana  and  her  chil- 
dren, and  Mercy,  and  another  for  Mr.  Great-heart,  and 
the  old  gentleman. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  Good  Gaius,  what  hast 
thou  for  supper  ?  for  those  pilgrims  have  come  far  to- 
day, and  are  weary. 

It  is  late,  said  Gaius,  so  we  cannot  conveniently  ge 
out  to  se»  k  food,  but  such  as  1  have  you  shall  be  wel- 
come to,  if  that  will  content  you. 

Gr.-h.  We  will  be  content  with  what  thou  hast  in  the 
-house  ;  forasmuch  as  I  have  proved  thee,  thou  art  ne- 
ver destitute  of  that  which  is  convenient. 

Then  he  went  down  and  sp.\ke  to  the  cook,  whose 
name  was  Taste-that-which-is-good,  to  get  ready  sup- 
per for  so  many  pilgrims. — This  done,  he  comes  up  a- 
gain,  saying,  Come  my  good  friends,  you  are  welcome 
10  me,  and  i  am  glad  that  I  have  a  house  to  entertain 
you  ;  and  while  supper  is  making  ready,  if  you  please, 
let  us  entertain  one  another  with  some  good  discourse  : 
so  they  all  said,  content. 

Then  said  Gaius,  Whose  wife  is  this  aged  matron? 
and  whose  daughter  is  this  young  damsel  ? 

Gr.-h.  The  woman  is  the  wife  of  one  Christian,  a 
pilgrim  in  former  times  ;  and  these  are  his  four  chil- 

*Rora.  xvi.  23. 


THE 


PROGRESS.  263 


dren.  The  maid  is  one  of  her  acquaintance  ;  one  that 
she  hath  persuaded  to  come  with  her  on  pilgrimage. 
The  boys  take  all  after  their  father,  and  covet  to  tread 
in  his  steps  :  yea,  if  they  dd  but  see  any  place  where  the 
old  pilgrim  hath  lain,  or  any  print  of  his  foot,  it  minister- 
eth  joy  to  their  hearts,  and  they  covet  to  lie  or  tread  in 
the  same. 

Then  said  Gaius,  Is  this  Christian's  wife,  and  are 
these  Christian's  children  ?  I  knew  your  husband's  fa- 
ther, yea,  and  also  his  father's  father.  Many  have  been 
good  of  this  stock  ;  their  ancestors  first  dwelt  at  Anti- 
och.*  Christian's  progenitors  (I  suppose  you  have 
heard  your  husband  talk  of  them)  were  very  worthy 
men.  They  have,  above  any  that  I  know,  showed  them- 
selves men  of  great  virtue  and  courage,  for  the  Lord 
of  the  pilgrims,  his  ways,  and  them  that  loved  him.  I 
have  heard  of  many  of  your  husband's  relations,  that 
have  stood  all  trials  for  the  sake  of  the  truth,  Stephen, 
that  was  one  of  the  fii  st  of  the  family  from  whence  your 
husband  sprang,  was  knocked  on  the  head  with  stones.f 
James,  another  of  this  generation,  was  slain  with  the 
ed£;e  of  the  sword4  To  say  nothing  of  Paul  and  Peter, 
men  anciently  of  the  family  from  whence  your  husband 
came,  there  was  one  Ignatius,  who  was  cast  to  the  li- 
ons ;  Romanus,  whose  flesh  was  cut  by  pieces  from  his 
bones ;  and  Polycarp,  that  played  the  man  in  the  fire. 
There  was  he  that  was  hanged  up  in  a  basket  in  the 
sun,  for  the  wasps  to  eat ;  and  he  whom  they  put  into  a 
sack,  and  cast  him  into  the  sea  to  be  drowned.  It  would 
be  utterly  impossible  to  count  up  all  that  family,  that 
have  suffered  injuries  and  death  for  the  love  of  a  pil- 
grim's life.  Nor  can  I  but  be  glad,  to  see  that  thy  hus- 
band has  left  behind  him  four  such  boys  as  these.  I 
hope  they  will  bear  up  their  father's  name,  and  tread  in 
their  father's  iteps,  and  come  to  their  father's  end. 

Gr.-Fi.  Indeed,  Sir,  they  are  likely  lads  :  they  seem 
to  choose  heartily  their  father's  ways. 

Gai.  That  is  what  I  said ;  wherefore  Christian's  fa- 
mily is  like  still  to  spread  abroad  upon  the  face  of  the 
ground,  and  yet  to  be  numerous  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth:  wherefore  let  Christiana  look  out  some  damsels 

*  Acts  zi.  26.  f  Acts  vii.  59,  60.  J  Acts  xii.  2, 


264 

for  her  sons,  to  whom  they  may  be  betrothed,  &c.  that 
the  name  of  their  father  and  the  house  of  his  progeni- 
tors may  never  be  forgotten  in  the  world. 

Hon.  It  is  pity  his  family  should  fall  and  be  extinct. 

Gai.  Fall  it  cannot,  but  be  diminished  it  may  :  but 
)  c:  Christiana-  take  my  advice,  and  that's  the  way  to 
uphold  it. 

And,  Christiana,  said  this  inn-keeper,  I  am  glad  to 
see  thee  and  thy  friend  Mercy  together  here,  a  lovely 
couple.  And  may  I  advise,  Take  Mercy  into  a  near- 
er relation  to  thee  :  if  she  will,  let  her  be  given  to  Mat- 
thew, thy  eldest  son  :  it  is  the  way  to  preserve  a  pos- 
terity in  the  earth.— So  this  match  was  concluded,  and 
in  process  of  time  they  were  married  :  but  more  of 
that  hereafter. 

Gains  also  proceeded,  and  said,  I  will  now  speak  on 
the  behalf  of  women,  to  take  away  their  reproach.  For 
as  death  ai  d  the  curse  came  into  the  world  by  a  wom- 
an, so  also  did  life  and  health  :  "  God  sent  forth  his 
Son  made  of  a  woman.*'*  Yea,  to  show  how  much 
those  that  came  after  did  abhor  the  act  of  the  mother, 
this  sex  in  the  Old  Testament  coveted  children,  if  hap- 
pily this  or  that  woman  mighc  be  the  mother  of  the  Sa- 
viour of  the  world.  I  will  say  again,  that  when  the 
Saviour  was  come,  women  rejoiced  in  him,  before  ei- 
ther man  orangel.f  I  read  not,  ever  man  did  give  un- 
to Christ  so  much  as  one  groat :  but  the  women  follow- 
ed him,  and  ministered  to  him  of  their  substance.  It 
was  a  woman  that  washed  his  feet  with  tears,  %id  a 
woman  that  annointed  his  body  to  the  burial.  They 
-were  women  that  wept,  when  he  was  going  to  the  cross; 
and  women  that  followed  Mm  from  the  cross,  and  that 
sat  by  his  sepulchre  when  he  was  buried.  They  were 
women  that  were  first  with  him  at  his  resurrection 
morn ;  and  women  that  brought  tidings  first  to  his  dis- 
ciples, that  he  was  risen  from  the  dead.J:  Women 
therefore  are  highly  favored,  and  show  by  these  things 
that  they  are  sharers  with  us  in  the  grace  of  life. 

Now  the  cook  sent  up  to  signify  that  supper  was  af> 

*  Gen.  iii.  Gal.iv.  4.  f  Luke,  ii.  t  Luke  37—50. 
viii.  2,  3.  xxiii  27.  xxiv.  22,  23.  John  ii.  3.  xi.  2. 
Matt,  xxrii.  55,  56—61. 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  266 

most  ready  :  and  sent  one  to  lay  the  cloth,  and  the  tren- 
chers, and  to  set  the  salt  and  bread  in  order. 

Then  said  Matthew,  The  sight  of  this  cloth  and  of 
this  forerunner  of  the  supper,  begetteth  in  me  a  greater 
appetite  to  my  food  than  I  had  before. 

Gai.  So  let  all  ministering  doctrines  to  thee,  in  this 
life  beget  in  thee  a  greater  desire  to  sit  at  the  supper 
ot  the  great  King  in  his  kingdom  ;  for  all  preaching, 
books,  and  ordinances  here,  are  but  as  the  laying  of  the 
irenchms,  and  as  setting  of  salt  upon  the  board,  when 
compared  with  the  feast  that  our  Lord  willmake  us 
when  we  come  to  his  house. 

So  supper  came  ;  and  first  a  heave- shoulder  and  a 
wave-breast  were  set  on  the  table  before  them  ;  to  show 
that  tney  must  begin  the  meal  with  prayer  and  praise  to 
God.*  The  heave-shoulder,  David  lifted  his  heart  up 
to  God  with  ;  and  with  the  wave-breast,  where  his 
heart  lay,  with  that  he  used  to  lean  upon  his  harp,  when 
-he  played. — These  two  dishes  were  very  fresh  and 
good,  and  they  ail  eat  heartily  thereof. 

The  next  they  brought  up  was  a  bottle  of  wine,  as 
red  as  blood.  So  Gains  said  to  them,  Drink  freely, 
this  is  the  true  juice  of  the  vine,  that  makes  glad  the 
heart  of  God  and  man.  So  they  drank  and  were  mer- 
ry.f — The  next  was  a  dish  of  milk  well  crumbled  :  but 
Gaius  said,  Let  the  boys  have  that,  that  they  may '  grow 
thereby  .'J. — Then  they  brought  up  in  course  a  dish  of 
butter  and  honey.  Then  said  Gaius,  Eat  freely  of  this, 
for  this  is  good  to  cheer  up  and  strengthen  your  judg- 
ments and  understandings.  This  was  our  Lord's  dish 
when  he  was  a  child  ;  "  Butter  and  honey  shall  he  eat, 
that  he  may  know  how  to  refuse  the  evil,  and  choose 
the  good."§ — Then  they  brought  up  a  dish  of  apples, 
and  they  were  very  good  tasted  fruit.  Then  said  Mat- 
thew, '  May  we  eat  apples,  since  ihey  were  such,  by 
and  with  which  the  serpent  beguiled  our  first  mother?" 
Then  said  Gaius, 

*  Apples  were  they  with  which  we  were  beguil'd  ; 
Yet  sin,  not  apples,  hath  our  souls  defil'd : 

*  Lev.  vii.  32—34.  x.  14, 16.    Psil.  xxv.  1.    Heb  xiii.  15, 
fDeut.xxxii    14.  Judg.  i%,  13.  John*?.  5.   Jl  Pet.  ii 
1,2.     $  Isaiah,  vii.  15. 
Y 


266  THE    TILGRIm's    PROGRESS. 

Apples  forbid,  if  eat*  corrupt  the  blood  ; 
To  eat  such,  when  commanded,  does  us  good  : 
Drink  of  his  flagons,  then,  thou  church  his  dove, 
And  eat  his  apples,  who  are  sick  of  love.' 

Then  said  Matthew,  I  made  the  scruple,  because,  a> 
while  since  I  was  sick,  with  eating  of  fruit. 

Gai.  Forbidden  fruit  will  make  you  sick,  but  not 
what  our  Lord  has  tolerated,  i 

While  they  were  thus  talking,  they  were  presented 
with  another  dish,  and  it  was  a  dish  of  nuts.*  Then 
said  some  at  the  table,  '  Nuts  spoil  tender  teeth,  espe- 
cially the  teeth  of  the  children.'  Which,  when  Gaius 
heard,  he  said, 

*  Hard  tewts  are  nuts  (I  will  not  call  them  cheaters) 
Whose  shells  do  keep  the  kernels  from  the  eaters  : 
Open  then  the  shells,  and  you  shall  have  the  meat ; 
They  here  are  brought  for  you  to  crack  and  eat.' 

/Then  they  were  very  merry,  and  sat  at  the  table  a 
long  time,  talking  ot  many  things.  Then  said  the  old 
gentleman,  My  good  landlord,  while  you  are  cracking 
your  nuts,  if  you  please,  do  you  open  this  riddle  : 

4  A  man  there  was  (though  some  did  count  him  mad) 
The  more  he  cast  awa^  the  more  he  had.' 

Then  they  all  gave  good  heed,  wondering  what  good 
Gaius  would  say  ;  so  he  sat  still  awhile,  and  then  thus 
replied  : 

*  He  who  thus  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor, 
Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more.* 

Then  said  Joseph,  I  dare  say,  Sir,  I  did  not  think  you 
could  '  wfe  found  it  out. 

Oh  !  said  Gaius,  I  have  been  trained  up  in  this  way  a 
great  while  :  nothing  teaches  like  experience  :  I  have 
learned  of  my  Lord  to  be  kind;  and  have  found  by  ex- 
perience, that  I  have  gained  thereby.  "  There  is  that 
scattereth,  yet  increaseth  ;  and  there  is  that  withhol- 
deth  more  than  is  meet,  but  it  tendeth  to  poverty:" 
"  There  is  that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet  hath  nothing ; 
there  is  that  maketh  himself  poor,  yet  hath  great  rich 
es."t 
*  Sol.  Song  vi.  11.  *Prov,xi.24.  xiii.  7. 


267 

Then  Samuel  whispered  to  Christiana,  his  mother, 
and  said,  Mother,  this  is  a  very  good  man's  house  ;  let 
us  s'.ay  here  a  good  while,  and  let  my  brother  Matthew 
be  married  here  to' Mercy,  before  we  go  any  further. 

The  which  Gains  the  host  overhearing,  said,  with  a 
very  good  will,  my  child. 

So  they  staid  here  more  than  a  month  ;  and  Mercy- 
was  given  to  Matthew  to  wife. 

While  they  staid  here,  Mercy,  ?.s  her  custom  was, 
would  be  making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the 
poor,  by  which  she  brought  up  a  very  good  report  upon 
pilgrims. 

But  to  return  again  to  our  story.  After  supper,  the 
lads  desired  a  bed,  for  they  were  weary  with  travelling  : 
then  Gaius  called,  to  show  them  their  chamber  ;  but 
said  Mercy,  I  will  have  them  to  bed. — So  she  had  them 
to  bed,  and  they  slept  well :  but  the  rest  sat  up  all  night: 
for  Gaius  and  they  were  such  suitable  company,  that 
they  could  not  tell  how  to  part.  Then  after  much  talk 
of  their  Lord,  themselves,  and  their  jooraies,  old  Mr. 
Honest  (He  that  put  forth  the  riddle  to  Gaius)  began  to 
nod.  Then  said  Great-heart,  what  Sir,  you  begin  to  be 
drowsy !  come,  rub  up,  now  here  is  a  riddle  for  you. 
Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  let  us  hear  it. 

•  He  that  will  kill,  must  first  be  overcome  : 
Who  live  abroad  would,  first  must  die  at  home.' 

Ha!  said  Mr.  Honest,  it  is  a  hard  one  to  expound, 
and  harder  to  practice.  But  come,  landlord,  said  he,  I 
will,  if  you  please,  leave  my  part  to  you  ;  do  you  ex- 
pound it,  and  I  will  hear  what  you  say. 

No,  said  Gaius,  it  was  put  to  you,  and  it  is  expected 
should  answer  it. 

Then  said  the  old  gentleman, 

•  He  first  by  grace  must  conquer'd  be, 

That  sin  would  mortify  : 
Who,  that  he  lives,  would  convince  me, 
Unto  himself  must  die.' 

It  is  right,  said  Gaius  ;  good  doctrine  and  experience 
teaches  this.  For,  until  grace  displays  itself,  and  over- 
comes the  soul  with  glory,  it  is  altogether  without  heart 
to  oppose  sin  ;  besides,  if  sin  is  Satan's  cords,  by  which 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

the  soul  lies  bound,  how  should  it  make  resistance,  be- 
fore it  is  loosed  from  that  infirmity  ?— Nor  will  any, 
that  knows  either  reason  or  grace,  believe  that  such  a 
roan  can  be  a  living  monument  of  grace,  that  is  a  slave 
to  his  own  corruption. — And  now  it  comes  in  my  mind, 
I  will  tell  you  a  story  worth  the  hearing. — There  were 
two  men  that  went  on  pilgrimage,  the  one  began  when 
he  was  young,  the  ether  when  he  was  old;  the  young 
man  had  strong  cciruptions  to  grapple  with,  the  old 
man's  were  weak  with  the  decays  of  nature  :  the  young 
man  trod  his  steps  as  even  as  did  the  old  one,  and  was 
every  way  as  light  as  he  :  who  new,  ov  which  of  them, 
hpd  their  graces  shining  clearest,  since  both  seemed  to 
be  alike  ? 

Hon.  The  young  man's  doubtless.  For  that  which 
heads  it  against  the  greatest  opposition  gives  best  de- 
monstration that  it  is  strongest ;'  especially  when  it  also 
hoideth  pace  with  that  that  meets  not  with  half  so  much ; 
as  to  be  sure  old  age  dots  not. — Besides,  I  have  obser- 
ved, that  old  men  have  blessed  themselves  with  this 
mistake ;  namely,  taking  the  decays  of  nature  for  a  gra- 
cious conquest  over  corruptions,  and  so  have  been  apt 
to  beguile  themselves.  Indeed,  old  men  that  are  gra- 
cious, are  best  able  to  give  advice  to  them  that  are 
young,  because  they  have  seen  most  of  the  emptiness  of 
tbings  :  but  yet,  for  an  old  and  a  young  man  to  set  cut 
:i  together,  the  young  one  has  the  advantage  of  the 

.  est  discovery  of  a  work  ot  grace  within  him,  though 
aid  man's  corruptions  are  naturally  the  weakest. 

Thus  they  sa't  talking  till  break  of  d^y.     Now 

'  y  was  up,  Christiana  bid  her  son  James  that  he 
should  read  a  chapter  ;  so  he  read  the  fifty-third  oflsai- 
ah-  When  he  had  done,  Mr.  Honest  asked  why  it  v.  \& 
said,  that  the  Saviour  was  said  to  come  "  out  of  a  dry 
ground  ;"  and  also  that  he  had  u  no  form  or  comeliness 
in  him  ?" 

Then  said  Mr.  Great'-heart,  To  the  first,  I  answer, 
because  the  church  of  the  Jews,  of  which  Christ  came, 
had  then,  lost  almost  all  the  sap  and  spirit  of  religion. 
To  the  second,  I  say,  the  words  are  spoken  in  the  p 

ofthe  unbeliever,  who,  because  they   want  the  eye 
.hat  can  see   into  cur  Prince's    heart,   therefore   tl 
•udge  of  him  by  the  meanness  of  Ms  out-side— T 


vrHE  pilgrim's  padffREss.  269 

like  those  that  know  not  precious  stones  are  covered 
over  with  a  homely  crust ;  who,  when  they  have  found 
one,  because  they  know  not  what  they  have  found,  cast 
it  again  away,  as  men  do  a  common  stone. 

Well,  said  Gaius,  now  you  are  here,  and  since,  I: 
know  Mr.  Great-heart  is  good  at  his  weapons,  if  you 
please,  after  we  have  refreshed  ourselves,  we  will  walk 
into  the  fields,  to  see  if  we  can  do  any  good.  About  a 
mile  from  hence,  there  is  one  Slay-good,  a  giant,  that 
does  much  annoy  ..the  king's  highway  in  these  parts  : 
and  I  know  where-about  his  haunt  is  :  he  is  master  of 
a  number  of  thieves  :  it  would  be  well  if  we  could  clear 
these  parts  of  him. 

So  they  consented,  and  went,  Mr.  Great-heart  with 
his  sword,  helmet,  and  shield,  and  the  rest  with  spears 
and  staves. 

When  they  earne  to  the  place  where  he  was,  they 
found  him  with  one  Feeble-mind  in  his  hand,  whom  his 
servants  had  brought  unto  him,  having  taken  him  in  the 
way :  now  the  giant  was  rifling  him,  with  a  purpose  af- 
ter that,  to  pick  his  bones  ;  for  he  was  of  the  nature  of 
flesh-eaters. 

Well,  so  soon  as  he  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his 
frienus  at  the  mouth  of  his  cave,  with  their  weapons,  he 
demanded  what  they  wanted. 

Gr.-h.  We  want  thee,  for  we  are  come  to  revenge 
the  quarrels  of  the  many  that  thou  hast  slain  of  the  pil- 
grims, when  thou  hast  dragged  them  out  of  the  king's 
highway  ;  wherefore  come  out  of  thy  cave. — So  he  ar- 
med himself  and  came  out ;  and  to  the  battle  they  went, 
and  fought  above  an  hour,  and  then  stood  still  to  take  wind. 

Then  said  the  giant,  Why  are  you  here  on  my 
ground  ? 

Gi\-h.  To  revenge  the  blood  of  pilgrims,  as  I  also 
told  thee  before. — So  they  went  to  it  again,  and  the  gi- 
ant made  Mr.  Great  heart  give  back  ;  but  he  came  up 
again,  and  in  the  greatness  of  mind  he  let  fly  with  such 
stoutness  at  the  giant's  head  and  sides,  that  he  made 
him  let  his  weapon  fall  out  of  his  hand  ;  so  he  smote 
and  slew  him,  and  cut  off  his  head,  and  brought  it  away 
to  the  inn.  He  also  took  Feeble-mind  the  pilgrim,  and 
brought  him  with  him  to  his  lodgings.  When  they 
Y  2 


270  THE    PILGRIM'S    rROOHESS. 

were  come  home,  they  showed  his  head  to  the  family*, 
and  set  it  up,  as  they  had  done  others  before,  for  a  ter- 
ror to  those  that  shall  attempt  to  do  as  he,  hereafter. 

Then  they  asked  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  how  he  fell  into 
his  hands  ? 

Then  said  the  poor  man,  I  am  a  sickly  man,  as  you 
see,  and  because  death  did  usually  once  a  day  knock  at 
my  door,  1  thought  I  should  never  be  well  at  home  :  so 
I  betook  myself  to  a  pilgrim's  life  ;  and  have  travelled 
hither  from  the  town  of  Uncertain,  where  1  and  my  fa- 
ther were  born.  I  arn  a  man  of  no  strength  at  all  of 
body,  nor  yet  of  mind  ;  but  would,  if  1  could,  though  1 
can  but  crawl,  spend  my  time  in  a  pilgrim's  way.-— 
When  I  came  at  the  gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  the  way, 
the  lord  of  that  place  did  entertain  me  freely ;  neither 
objected  he  against  my  weakly  looks,  nor  against  my 
feeble  mind :  but  gave  me  such  things  that  were  ne- 
cessary for  my  journey,  and  bid  me  hope  to  the  end. — 
When  I  came  to  the  house  of  the  Interpreter,  I  receiv- 
ed much  kindness  there  ;  and  because  the  hill  of  Diffi- 
culty was  judged  too  hard  for  me,  I  was  carried  up  that 
by  one  of  his  servants. — Indeed  I  have  found  much  re- 
lief from  pilgrims,  though  none  was  willing  to  go  softly 
as  I  am  forced  to  do  :  yet  still  as  they  came  on,  they 
bid  me  be  of  good  cheer,  and  said,  that  it  was  the  will 
of  their  Lord,  that  "  comfort5*  should  be  given  to  "  the 
feeble-minded  ;"*  and  so  went  on  their  own  pace.— 
When  I  was  come  to  Assault-lane,  then  this  giant  met 
■with  me,  and  bid  me  prepare  for  an  encounter  ;  but,  a- 
las !  feeble  one  that  I  was  !  I  had  more  need  of  a  cor- 
dial :  so  he  came  up  and  took  me.  I  conceived  he 
should  not  kill  me :  also  when  he  had  got  me  into  his 
den,  since  I  went  not  with  him  willingly,  I  believed  I 
should  come  out  alive  again ;  for  I  have  heard,  that  not 
any  pilgrim,  that  is  taken  captive  by  violent  hands,  if  he 
keeps  heart-whole  towards  his  master,  is,  by  the  laws  of 
providence,  to  die  by  the  hand  of  the  enemy.  Robbed 
I  looked  to  be,  and  robbed  to  be  sure  I  am  ;  but  1  am, 
as  you  see,  escaped  with  life,  for  the  which  I  thank  my 
King  as  author,  and  you  as  the  means.  Other  brunts  1 
also  look  for,  but  this  I  have  resolved  on,  to  wit,  to  run 
*  1  Tbes.  v.  14. 


271 


when  I  can,  to  go  when  I  cannot  run,  and  to  creep  when 
I  cannot  go.  As  to  the  main,  I  hank  him  that  loved 
me,  I  am  fixed ;  Diy  way  is  betore  me,  my  mind  is  be- 
yond the  river  that  has  no  bridge  ;  though  I  am,  as  you 
see,  but  of  a  feeble  mind. 

Hon.  Then  said  old  Mr.  Honest,  have  not  you  some 
time  ago  been  acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Fearing,  a  pil- 
grim? 

Feeble.  Acquainted  with  him !  yes :  he  came  from 
the  town  of  Stupidity,  which  lies  four  degrees  r.orth- 
ward  of  the  city  of  Destruction,  and  a3  many  off  of 
where  I  was  born  :  yet  we  were  well  acquainted,  for  in- 
deed he  was  my  uncle,  ray  father's  brother  ;  he  and  I 
have  been  much  of  a  temper  :  he  was  a  little  shorter 
than  I,  but  yet  we  were  much  of  a  complexion. 

Hon.  I  perceive  you  know  him  :  and  I  am  apt  to  be- 
lieve also,  that  you  were  related  one  to  another,  for  you 
have  his  whitely  look,  a  cast  like  his  with  your  eye,  and 
your  speech  is  much  alike. 

Feeble.  Most  have  said  so,  that  have  known  us  both  ; 
and,  besides,  what  1  have  read  in  him,  I  have  for  the 
most  part  found  in  myself. 

Come,  Sir,  said  good  Gaius,  be  or  good  cheer  ;  you 
are  welcome  to  me,  and  to  my  house  ;  and  what  thou 
hast  a  mind  to,  call  for  freely  ;  and  what  thou  wouldst 
have  my  servants  do  lor  thee,  they  will  do  with  a  ready 
mind. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  This  is  an  unexpected 
favor,  and  as  the  sun-shining  out  of  a  very  dark  cloud. 
Did  giant  Slay-good  intend  me  this  favor  when  he  stopt 
me,  and  resolved  to  let  me  go  no  further  ?  Did  he  in- 
tend, that  after  he  had  rifled  my  pockets,  I  should  go 
to  "  Gaius  mine  host  V*  Yet  so  it  is. 

Now  just  as  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Gaius  were  thus 
in  talk,  there  comes  one  running,  and  called  at  the  door, 
and  told  that  aboui  a  mile  and  a  half  off  there  was  one 
Mr.  Not-right,  a  pilgrim,  struck  dead  upon  the  place 
where  he  was,  with  a  thunderbolt. 

Alas  !  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  is  he  slain  ?  He  over- 
took me  some  days  before  I  came  so  far  as  hither,  and 
would  be  my  company-keeper  :  he  also  was  with  me 
when  Slay-gopd  the  giant  took  me,  but  he  was  nimble 


of  his  heels,  and  escaped  :  but,  it  seems,  he  escaped  to 
die,  and  I  was  took  to  live. 

4  What  one  would  think,  doth  seek  to  slay  outright, 

Oft-times  delivers  from  the  saddest  plight. 

That  very  providence,  whose  face  is  death, 

Doth  oft-times  to  the  lo.vly,  life  bequeath. 

I  tai       was,  he  did  escape  and  flee  : 

Hands  cross'd,  giv«  death  to  him,  and  life  to  me.* 

Now  about  this  time  Matthew  and  Mercy  were  mar- 
ried :  also  Gaius  gave  his  daughter  Phebe  to  James. 
Matthew's  brother,  to  wife.  After  which  time  they 
staid  about  ten  days  at  Gaius's  house  ;  spending  their 
time,  and  the  seasons,  like  as  pilgrim's  used  to  do. 

When  they  were  to  depart,  Gaius  made  to  them  a 
feast,  and  they  did  eat  and  drink,  and  were  merry.  Now 
the  bour  was  come  Wuat  they  must  be  gone  ;  where- 
fore Mr.  Great-heart  called  for  a  reckoning.  But  Gai- 
us told  him,  that  at  his  house  it  was  not  the  custom  of 
pilgrims  to  pay  for  their  entertainment.  He  boarded 
them  by  the  year,  but  looked  for  his  pay  from  the  Good 
Samaritan,  who  had  promised  him  at  his  return,  what- 
soever charge  he  was  with  them,  faithfully  to  repay 
him.*  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  him, — Beloved, 
thou  doest  faithfully,  whatsoever  thou  doest  to  the  breth- 
ren and  to  strangers,  which  have  borne  witness  of  thy 
charity  before  the  church,  whom  if  thou  yet  bring  for- 
ward on  their  journey,  after  a  godly  sort,  thou  shalt  do 
wchY't 

Then  Gaius  took  his  leave  of  them  all,  and  his  chil- 
dren and  particularly  Mr.  Feeble-mind  ;  he  also  gave 
him  something  to  dnok  by  the  way. 

Now  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  when  they  were  going  out 
at  the  door,  made  as  if  he  intended  to  linger.  The  which 
when  Mr.  Great-heart ,  espied,  he  said,  '  Come,  Mr. 
Feeble-mind,  pray  do  you  go  along  with  us,  I  will  be 
your  conductor,  and  you  shall  fare  as  the  rest.' 

Feeble.  Alas !  I  want  a  suitable  companion  ;  you  are 
all  lusty  and  strong  ;  but  I,  as  you  see,  am  weak ;  I 
choose  therefore  rather  to  come  behind,  lest  by  reason  of 
my  many  infirmities,  I  should  be  both  a  burden  to  my- 
self and  to  you.    I  am,  as  I  said,  a  man  of  a  weak  and 

*  Luke  x.  34,  35.  t  3  John  5,  6. 


feeble  mind,  and  shall  be  offended  and  .made  weak  at 
that  which  others  can  bear.     I  shall  like  no  la<. 
I  shall   like  no  gay  attire  :  I  shall  like  no  unprofitable 
questions.     Nay,  I  am  so  weak  a  man,  as  to  be  offend- 
ed at  that  which  Others  have  a  liberty  to  do.       I  do  i 
know  all  the  truth  :  lama  very  ignorant  Christian  man  : 
sometimes,  if  1  hear   some  rejoice  in  t%  Lord,  it  trou- 
bles me,  because  I  cannot  do  so  too.     It  is  with  me,  as 
it  is  with  a  weak  man  among  the  strong,  or  as  a  lamp 
despised.     "  He  that  is  ready  to  slip  with  bis  feet,  fa  as 
a  lamp,  despised  in  the  thought  of  him  that  is  at 
so  that  I  know  not  what  to  do. 

But,  brother,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  I  have  it  in  corn-  « 
mission   to  "  comfort  the  feeble-mine 
port  the  weak.     You  must  needs  go  a  we 

will  wait  for  you,  we  will  lend  you  our  help  ;  we 
deny  ourselves  of  some  things,  both  ophiionative 
practical,  for  your  sake  ;  we  will  not  enter  into  *'  do* 
ful  disputations"  before  you  ;  we  v  ade  all  this 

to  you,  rather  than  you  shall  be  left 

Now  all  this  while  they  were  at  G&ius-s  door ;  ?.nd, 
behold,  as  they  were  thus  in  the  h  iiscourse, 

Mr.   Ready-to-halt  came  by  with   his  crutches   in  his 
hand,  and  he  also  was  going  on  ;; 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind  to  him.  how  earnest  thou 
hither  ?  I  was  but  now  complaining  that  I  had  not  a 
suitable  companion;  but  thou  art  according  to  my  wish. 
Welcome,  welcome,  good  Mr,  Ready-to-halt,  I  he  i 
thou  and  I  may  be  some  help. 

Rcady-to-halt.  I  sh"!l  he  glad   of  thy  coropam 
the  other;  and  good  Mr.  Feeble-mind 
will  part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  -im 
one  of  my  crutches. 

Feeble.  Nay,  said  he,   though  I  thank  th.ee.  for  I 
good-will,   1    am  not  inclined  to  halt  before 
Howbeit,  I  think   when  occasion  is,  it  may  help 
gainst  a  dog. 

Ready-t'i-halt.  If  either  myself  or  my  crutches  can 
do  thee  a  pleasure,  we  are  both  at  thy  command  good 
Mr   Feeble-mind. 

*Job   xii.  5.  jRcm.  iiv.    1  Cor.  viii.  9,  13.   ix    - 

|  fs.  XJUJYiii.  17. 


*v 


THE    PILGRiai'-S    TtOCRESS. 


Thus  therefore  they  went  on.  Mr.  Great-heart  and 
Mr.  lloncsi  went  before,  Christiana  and  her  children 
went  next,  and  Mr.  Feeble  mind  and  Mr.  Ready-to- 
nalt,  came  behind  with  his  crutches.  Then  said  Mr. 
lionest,  pray,  Sir,  now  wc  are  on  the  road,  tell  us  of 
some  profitablewthings  of  some  that  have  gone  on  pil- 
grimage before  us. 

Gr.-h.  With  a  good  will.  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
how  Christian  of  old  did  meet  with  Apollyon  in  the  val- 
ley of  Humiliation,  ami  also  that  hard  work  he  had  to 
go  through  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Also 
1  think  you  cannot  but  have  heard  how  Faithful  was  put 
to  it  by  Madam  Wanton,  with  Adam  the  First,  with  one 
Discontent,  and  Shame  :  four  as  deceitful  villains  as  a 
man  can  meet  with  upon  the  road. 

Hon.  Yes,  I  believe  1  heard  all  this  :  but  indeed 
good  Faithful  was  hardest  put  to  it  with  Shame  ;  he  was 
an  unwearied  one. 

Gr.-h.  Ay  :  for,  as  the  pilgrim  well  said,  he  of  all 
men  had  the  wrong  name. 

Hon.  But  pray,  Sir,  where  was  it  that  Christian  and 
Faithful  met  Talkative  ?  that  same  was  a  notable  one. 

Gr.-h.  Ke  was  a  confident  fool  ;  yet  many  follow  his 
ways. 

Hon.  He  had  like  to  have  beguiled  Faithful. 

Gr.-h.  Ay,  but  Christian  put  him  into  a  way  quickly 
to  find  him  cut. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  place  where 
Evangelist  met  with  Christian  and  Faithful,  and  proph- 
esied to  them  what  they  should  meet  with  at  Vanity- 
fair. 

Then  said  their  guide.  Hereabouts  did  Christian  and 
Faithful  meet  with  Evangelist,  who  propne^ied  to  them 
of  what  troubles  they  should  meet  with  at  Vanity-fair. 

Hon.  Say  you  so?  I  dare  say  it  was  a  hard  chapter 
that  then  he  did  read  unto  them. 

Gr.-h.  It  was  so,  but  then  he  gave  them  encourage- 
ment withal.     liut  what  dc  weYalk  of  them  ?  they  were 
h  couple  of  lion  like  men  :  they  had  set  their  faces  lil 
flints.      Do  not  you  remember  how   undaunted   they 
were  when  they  stood  before  the  judge  ? 

Hon.  Well,  Faithful  bravely  suffered. 

Gr.~h.  So  he  did,  and  as  brave  things  came  ot't :   for 


THE    PILORIm'3    PROGRESS.  27 u 

Hopeful  and  some  others,  as  the  story  relates,  were 
converted  hy  his  death. 

Hon.  Well,  pray  go  on  ;  for  you  are  well  acquainted 
with  things. 

Gfr.-A.  Above  all  that  Christian  met  with  after  he 
had  passed  through  Vanity-lair,  one  By-ends  was  the 
arch  one. 

Hon.  By-ends  T  What  was  he  ? 

Gr  -h.  A  very  arch  fellow,  a  downright  hypocrite  ; 
one  that  would  be  religious,  which  way  ever  the  world 
went  :  but  so  cunning',  that  he  would  be  sure  never  to 
lose  or  suffer  for  it.  lie  had  his  mode  of  religion  for 
every  fresh  occasion,  and  his  wife  was  as  good  at  it  as 
he.  He  would  turn  and  change  from  opinion  to  opin- 
ion ;  yea,  and  plead  for  so  doing  too.  But  as  far  as  I 
could  learn,  he  came  to  an  ill-end  with  his  by-ends  ;  nor 
did  I  ever  hear,  that  any  of  his  children  were  ever  of  a- 
ny  esteem  with  any  that  truly  fear  God. 

Now  by  this  time  they  were  come  within  sight  ofthe 
town  of  Vanity,  where  Vanity-fair  is  kept.  So  when 
they  saw  that  they  were  so  near  the  town,  they  consul- 
ted with  one  ano*  her  how  they  should  pass  thro.ugh  the 
town  :  and  some  said  one  thing,  and  some  another.  At 
last  Mr.  Great-heart  said,  I  have  as  you  may  under- 
stand, often  been  a  conductor  of  piigrims  through,  this 
town;  now  I  am  acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Mnason,  a 
Gyprusian  by  nation,  and  an  old  disciple,  at  whose  house 
we  may  lodge.  If  you  think  good,  said  he,  we  will 
turn  m  there* 

Content,  said  old  Honest ;  Content,  said  Christiana  ; 
Content,  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind;  and  so  they  said  all. 
Now  you  must  think  it  was  even-tide  by  that  they  got 
to  the  outside  of  the  town  ;  but  Mr  Great-heart  knew 
the  way  to  the  old  man's  house.  So  thither  they  came ; 
and  he  called  at  the  door,  and  the  old  man  within  knew 
his  tongue  so  soon  as  ever  he  heard  it ;  so  he  opened, 
and  they  all  came  in-  Then  said  Mnason,  their  host, 
4  How  far  have  ye  come  to-day  V  So  they  said,  '  From 
the  house  of  Gaius  our  friend.'  '  I  promise  you,'  said 
he,  you  have  gone  a  good  stitch  ;  you  may  well  be  wea- 
ry ;  sit  down/  So  they  sat  down. 

Then  said  their  guide,  Come,  what  cheer,  good 
Sirs  ?  I  dare  say  you  are  welcome  to  my  friend, 


2?6  TtilZ    TILGRIM's    FHOGRESS. 

I  also,  said  Mr.  Mnason,  do  bid  you  welcome  ;  and 
whatever  you  want,  do  but  say,  and  we  will  do  what  we 
can  to  get  it  tor  you. 

Hon.  Our  great  want,  a  while  since,  was  harbor  and 
good  company  :  and  now  I  hope  we  have  both  ? 

Mnaq.  For  harbor  you  see  what  it  is  ;  but  for  good 
company  that  will  appear  in  the  trial. 

Well,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  will  you  have  the  pil- 
grims into  their  lodging  ? 

I  will,  said  Mr.  Mnason.  So  he  had  them  to  their 
respective  places :  and  also  showed  them  a  very  fair 
dining  room,  where,  they  might  be,  and  sup  togetner, 
until  time  was  come  to  go  to  rest. 

Now  when  they  were  set  in  their  places,  and  were  a 
little  cheery  after  their  journey,  Mr.  Honest  asked  his 
landlord,  if  there  were  any  store  of  good  people  in  the 
town  r 

Mnas.  We  Jiave  a  few  ;  for  indeed  they  are  but  a 
few,  when  compaied  with  them  on  the  othei  siue. 

Hon.  But  how  shall  we  do  to  see  some  of  them  ?  for 
the  sight  of  good  men,  to  them  that  are  going  on  pil- 
grimage, is  like  to  the  appearing  of  the  moon  and  stars 
to  them  that  are  going  a  journey. 

Then  Mr.  Mnason  stamped  with  his  foot,  and  his 
daughter  Grace  came  up :  so  he  said  unto  her,  Grace, 
go  you,  tell  my  friends.  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holyman, 
Mr.  Love-saints,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent, 
that  I  have  a  friend  or  two  at  my  house,  that  have  a 
mind  this  evening  to  see  them. 

So  Grace  went  to  call  them,  and  they  came  ;  and, 
after  salutation  made,  they  sat  down  together  at  the 
table. 

Then  said  Mr.  Mnason,  their  landlord,  My  neigh- 
bours, I  have,  as  you  see,  a  company  of  strangers  come 
to  my  house  :  they  are  pilgrims  :  they  come  from  afar, 
and  are  going  to  Mount  Sion.  But  who,  quoth  he,  do 
you  think  this  is  ?  (pointing  his  fingers  at  Christiana.) 
It  is  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,  the  famous  pil- 
grim, who  with  Faithful  his  brother,  were  so  shame- 
fully handled  in  our  town.  At  that  they  stood  amazed, 
saying,  we  little  thought  to  see  Christiana,  when  Grace 
came  to  call  us  :  wherefore  this  is  a  very  comfortabl 
surprise.    Then  they  asked  her  about  her  welfare,  ane 


ki77 

if  these  young  men  were  her  husband's  sons — And 
when  she  had  told  them  they  were,  they  said, '  The 
King,  whom  you  love  an  i  serve,  make  you  as  your 
father,  and  bring  you  where  he  is  in  peace  !' 

Then  Mr.  Honest,  when  they  were  all  sat  down,  ask- 
ed Mr.  Contrite,  and  the  rest,  in  what  posture  their 
town  was  at  present. 

Contr.  You  may  be  sure  we  arc  lull  of  hurry  in  fair 
time.  It  is  hard  keeping  our  hearts  and  spirits,  in  good 
order  when  we  are  in  a  cumbered  condition.  He  that 
lives  in  such  a  place  as  this,  and  that  has  to  do  with 
such  as  we  have,  has  need  of  an  item,  to  caution  him  to 
take   heed  every  moment   of  the  day. 

Hon.  But  how  are  your  neighbors  now  for  quiet* 
ness  ? 

Contr.  They  are  much  more  moderate  now  than 
formerly.  You  know  how  Christian  and  Faithful  were 
used  in  our  town  :  but  of  late,  I  say,  they  have  been  far 
more  moderate.  I  think  the  blood  of  Faithful  lieth 
with  load  upon  them  till  now  ;  for  since  they  burned 
him,  they  have  been  ashamed  to  burn  any  more ;  in 
those  days  we  were  afraid  to  walk  the  streets,  but  now 
we  can  show  our  heads.  Then  the  name  of  a  professor 
was  odious  ;  now,  especially  in  some  parts  of  our  town 
(for  you  know  our  town  is  large)  religion  is  couated 
honorable. 

Then  said  Mr.  Contrite  to  them,  Pray  how  fareth  it 
with  you  in  your  pilgrimage  ?  How  stands  the  country 
affected  towards  you  ? 

Hon.  It  happens  to  us,  as  it  happeneth  to  wayfaring 
men :  sometimes  our  way  is  clean,  sometimes  foul, 
sometimes  up  hill,  seme'imes  down  hill :  we  are  seldom 
at  a  certainty  :  the  wind  is  not  always  on  our  backs,  nor 
is  every  one  a  friend  that  we  meet  with  in  the  way. 
We  have  met  with  some  notable  rubs  already  :  and 
what  are  yet  behind  wc  know  not ;  but,  for  the  most 
part,  we  find  it  is  true  that  has  been  talked  of  old, — *  A 
good  man  must  suffer  trouble.' 

Contr.  You  talk  of  rubs : — what  rubs  have  you  met 
withal  ? 

Hon.  Nay,  ask  Mr.  Great-heart,  eur  guide  \  for  he 
can  give  the  best  account  of  that. 

Z 


-78  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

Gr.-h.  We  have  been  beset  three  or  four  times  al- 
ready. First,  Christiana  and  her  children  were  beset 
with  two  ruffians,  that  they  feared  would  take  away 
their  lives.  We  were  beset  with  giant  ploody-man,  gi- 
ant Maul,  and  giant  Slay-good.  Indeed,  we  did  rather 
beset  the  last,  than  were  beSet  of  him.  And  thus  it  was  : 
after  we  had  been  some  tii$e  at  the  house  of  Gaius, 
"  mine  host,  and  of  the  whote  church,"  we  were  min- 
ded upon  a  time  to  take  our^eapons  with  us,  and  so 
go  see  if  we  could  light  upon  any  of  those  that  were 
enemies  to  pilgrims  ;  for  we  heard  that  there  was  a  no- 
table one  thereabouts.  Now  Gaius  knew  his  haunt 
better  than  I,  because  he  dwelt  thereabout ;  so  we  loo- 
ked and  looked,  till  at  last  we  discerned  the  mouth  of 
his  cave  j  then  we  were  glad,  and  plucked  up  our  spir- 
its. So  we  approached  up  to  his  den  ;  and,  lo,  when 
we  came  there,  he  had  dragged^  by  mere  force  into  his 
net,  this  poor  man,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  and.  was  about  to 
bring  him  to  his  end.  But  when  he  saw  us,  supposing, 
as  we  thought,  he  had  another  prey  ;  he  left  the  poor 
roan  in  his  house,  and  came  out.  So  we  fell  to  it  full 
sore,  and  he  lustily  laid  about  him  ;  but  in  conclusion, 
he  was  brought  down  to  the  ground,  and  his  head  cut 
off,  and  set  up  by  the  way  side,  for  a  terror  to  such  as 
should  after  practice  such  ungodliness.  That  I  tell 
you  the  truth,  here  is  the  man  himself  to  affirm  it, 
who  was  as  a  lamb  taken  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  I  found  this  true  to  my 
cost  and  comfort ;  to  my  cost,  when  he  threatened  to 
pick  my  bones  every  moment :  and  to  my  comfort, 
when  I  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  friends,  with  their 
weapons,  approach  so  near  for  my  deliverance. 

Then  said  Mr.  Koly-man,  There  are  two  things  that 
they  hare  need  to  be  possessed  of,  that  goon  pilgrim- 
age ;  courage y  and  an  unsfiotted  life.  If  they  have  not 
courage,  they  can  never  hold  on  their  way ;  and,  if  their 
lives  be  loose,  they  will  make  the  name  of  a  pilgrim 
stink. 

Then  said  Mr.  Love-saint,  I  hope  this  caution  is  not 
needful  among  you  :  but  truly  there  are  many  that  go 
upon  the  road,  that  rather  declare  themselves  strang- 
ers to  pilgrimage,  than  strangers  and  pilgrims  in  the 
earth. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PR0GRE3S.  279 

Then  said  Mr.  Dare-not-lic,  It  is  true,  they  neither 
have  the  pilgrim's  weed,  nor  the  pilgrim's  courage  : 
they  go  not  uprightly,  but  all  awry  with  their  teet : 
one  shoe  goeth  inward,  another  outward,  and  their  ho- 
sen  out  behind  ;  here  a  rag,  and  there  a  rent,  to  the 
disparagement  of  their  Lord. 

These  things,  said  Mr.  Penitent,  they  ought  to  be 
troubled  for  j  nor  are  the  pilgrims  like  to  have  that 
grace  upon  them,  and  their  pilgrim's  progress  as  they 
desire,  until  the  way  Is  cleared  of  such  spots  and  blem- 
ishes. 

Thus  they  sat  talking  and  spending  the  time  until 
supper  was  set  upon  the  table.  Upon  which  they  went, 
and  refreshed  their  weary  bodies ;  so  they  went  to 
rest  Now  they  stayed  in  the  fair  a  great  while  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Mnason,  who,  in  process  of  time,  gave 
his  daughter  Grace  Unto  Samuel,  Christiana's  son,  and 
his  daughter  Martha  to  Joseph. 

The  time,  as  I  said,  that  they  lay  here  was  long  :  for 
it  was  not  now  as  in  former  times.  Wherefore  the 
pilgrims  grew  acquainted  with  many  of  the  good  peo- 
ple of  the  town,  and  did  them  what  service  they  could. 
Mercy,  as  she  was  wont,  labored  much  for  the  poor  ; 
wherefore  their  bellies  and  backs  blessed  her,  and  she 
was  there  an  ornament  to  her  profession.  And,  to  say 
the  tr'ith  for  Grace,  Phebe,  and  Martha,  they  were  all 
of  a  very  good  nature,  and  did  much  good  in  their  pla- 
ces. They  were  also  all  of  them  very  fruitful ;  so 
that  Christian's  name,  as  was  said  before,  was  like  to 
live  in  the  world. 

While  they  lay  here,  there  came  a  monster  out  of 
the  woods,  and  slew  many  of  the  people  of  the  town. 
It  would  also  carry  away  their  children,  and  teach  them 
to  suck  its  whelps.  Now  no  man  in  the  town  durst  so 
much  as  face  this  monster  ;  but  all  men  fled  when 
they  heard  of  the  noise  of  his  coming.  The  monster 
was  like  unto  no  one  beast  upon  the  earth  :  its  body 
was  M  like  a  dragon,  and  it  had  seven  heads  and  ten 
horns."*  It  made  great  havock  of  children,  and  yet  it 
was  governed  by  a  woman.    This  monster  propound- 

*Rev.  xii.  3. 


230 

ed  conditions  to  men ;  and  such  men  as  loved  their  lives 
more  than  their  souls  accepted  of  those  conditions. 

Now  Mr.  Great-heart,  together  with  these,  who  came 
to  visit  the  pilgrims  at  Mr.  Mnason's  house,  entered 
into  a  covenant  to  go  and  engage  this  beast,  if  perhaps 
they  might  deliver  the  people  of  this  town  from  the 
paws,  and  mouth  of  this  so  devouring  a  serpent. 

Then  did  Mr.  Great-heart,  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy- 
man,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent,  with  their 
weapons,  go  forth  to  meet  him.  Now  the  monster,  at 
first,  was  very  rampant,  and  looked  upon  these  enemies 
with  great  disdain ;  but  they  so  belaboured  him,  being 
sturdy  men  at  arms,  that  they  made  him  make  a  re- 
treat so  they  came  home  to  Mr.  Mnason's  house  a- 
gain. 

The  monster,  you  must  know,  had  his  certain  sea- 
sons to  come  out  in,  and  to  make  his  attempts  upon  the 
children  of  the  people  of  the  town  :  also  these  seasons 
did  these  valliant  worthies  watch  him  in,  and  did  con- 
tinually assault  him  ;  insomuch,  that  in  process  of  time 
lie  became  not  only  wounded,  but  lame  ;  also  he  had 
rot  made  the  havock  of  the  townsmen's  children,  as 
formerly  he  had  done.  And  it  is  verily  believed  by 
some,  that  this  beast  will  certainly  die  of  his  wounds. 
This  therefore  made  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  fellows 
of  great  fame  in  this  town  ;  so  that  many  of  the  people 
that  wanted  their  taste  of  things,  yet  had  a  reverent  es- 
teem and  respect  for  them.  Upon  this  account  there- 
iore  it  was,  that  these  pilgrims  got  not  much  hurt  here. 
True,  there  were  some  of  the  baser  sort,  that  could  see 
no  more  than  a  mole,  nor  understand  no  more  than  a 
beast  ;  these  had  no  reverence  for  these  men,  nor  took 
they  notice  of  their  value  and  adventures. 

Well,  the  time  drew  on  that  the  pilgrims  must  go 
on  their  way  ;  therefore  they  prepared  for  their  jour- 
ney. They  sent  for  their  friends ;  they  conferred  with 
them  ;  they  had  some  time  set  apart  therein,  to  commit 
each  other  to  the  protection  of  their  Prince.  They 
were  again  that  brought  them  of  such  things  as  they 
had,  that  were  fit  for  the  weak,  and  the  strong,  for  the 
women  and  the  men,  and  so  laded  them  with  such  thii 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  281 

as  were  necessary.'*  Then  they  set  forward  on  their 
way ;  and  their  friends  accompanying  them  so  far  as 
wus  convenient,  they  again  committed  each  other  to 
the  protection  of  their  King,  and  departed. 

They,  therefore,  that  were  of  the  pilgrims'  company, 
went  on,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  before  them  ;  now 
the  women  and  children  being  weakly,  they  were  for- 
ced to  go  as  they  could  bear  ;  by  this  means  Mr.  Rea- 
dy-to-halt and  Mr.  Feeble- mind  had  more  to  sympathize 
with  their  condition. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  townsmen,  and  when 
their  friends  had  bid  them  farewell,  they  quickly  came 
to  the  place  where  Faithful  was  put  to  death  :  therefore 
they  made  a  stand,  and  thanked  Him  that  had  enabled 
him  to  bear  his  cross  so  well ;  and  the  rather,  because 
they  now  found  that  they  had  a  benefit  by  such  a  man's 
sufferings  as  he  was.  They  went  on,  therefore,  after 
this  a  good  way  further,  talking  of  Christian  and  Faith- 
ful ;  and  how  Hopeful  joined  himself  to  Christian,  after 
that  Faithful  was  dead. 

Now  they  were  come  up  with  the  hill  Lucre,  where 
the  silver  mine  was,  which  took  Demas  off  from  his 
pilgrimage,  and  into  which,  as  some  think,  By-ends  fell 
and  perished  :  wherefore  they  considered  that.  But 
when  they  were  come  to  the  old  monument  that  stood 
over  against  the  hill  Lucre,  to  wit,  to  the  pillar  of  salt, 
that  stood  also  within  view  of  Sodom  and  its  stindng 
lake,  they  marvelled,  as  did  Christian  before,  that  men 
of  that  knowledge  and  ripeness  of  wit,  as  they  were, 
should  be  so  blind  as  to  turn  aside  here.  Only  they  con- 
sidered again,  that  nature  is  not  affected  with  the  harms 
that  others  have  met  with,  especially  if  that  thing,  upon 
which  they  look,  has  an  attracting  virtue  upon  the  foo- 
lish eye. 

I  saw  now  that  they  went  till  they  came  to  the  river 

that  was  on  this  side  of  the  Delectable  mountains to 

the  river  where  the  fine  trees  grow  on  both  sides  ;  and 
whose  leaves,  if  taken  inwardly  are  good  against  sur- 
feits,! where  the  meadows  are  green  all  the  year  jonp-, 
and  where  they  might  lie  down  safely. 

By  this  river  side,  in  the  meadows,  there  were  cotes 

*  Acts  xxviii.  10.  f  ps.  xziit. 

Z  2 


282  THE    PILGRIM'S    PKOOREd?. 

and  folds  for  sheep,  a  house  built  for  the  nourishing  and 
brin-mg  up  of  those  iambs,  the  babes  of  those  women 
that  go  on  pilgrimage.  Also  there  was  here  one  that 
was  entrusted  with  them,  who  could  have  compassion, 
and  that  could  gather  these  lambs  with  his  arm,  and 
carry  them  in  his  bosom,  and  that  could  gently  lead  those 
that  were  with  young.*  Now  to  the  care  of  this  man 
Christiana  admonished  her  four  daughters  to  commit 
their  little  ones,  that  by  these  waters  they  mi^ht  be 
housed,  harbored,  succoured,  and  nourished,  and  that 
none  of  them  might  be  lacking  in  time  ».o  come.  This 
man,  if  any  of  them  go  astray,  or  be  lost,  he  will  bring 
them  again  ;  he  will  ateo  bind  up  that  which  was  brok- 
en, and  will  strengthen  them  that  are  skk.f  Here  they 
will  never  want  meat,  drink,  and  clothing  ;  here  they 
will  be  kept  from  thieves  and  robbers  ;  foi  this  man 
will  die  before  one  of  those  committed  to  his  trust  shall 
be  lost.  Besides,  here  they  shall  be  sure  to  have  good 
nurture  and.admonition ;  and  shall  be  taught  to  walk  in 
right  paths ;  and  that,  you  know,  is  a  favor  of  no  small 
account. 

Also  here,  as  you  see,  are  delicate  waters,  pleasant 
meadows,  dainty  flowers,  variety  of  trees,  and  such  as 
fcear  wholesome  fruit :  fruit  not  like  that  which  Mat- 
thew eat  o£  that  fell  over  the  wall,  out  of  Beelzebub's 
garden  ;  but  fruit  that  procureth  health  where  there  is 
none,  and  that  continueth  and  encreaseth  where  it  is. 

So  they  were  content  to  commit  their  little  ones  to 
Jnm ;  and  that  which  was  also  an  encouragement  to 
them  so  to  do,  was,  for  that  all  this  was  to  be  at  the 
charge  of  the  King  ;  and  so  was  an  hospital  to  young 
children  and  orphans. 

Now  they  went  on  ;  and  when  they  were  come  to 
By-path  meadow,  to  the  stile  over  which  Christian  went 
with  his  fellow  Hopeful,  when  they  were  taken  by  giant 
Pespair,  and  put  into  Doubting  Castle  ;  they  sat  down, 
and  consulted  what  was  best  to  be  done ;  to  wit,  now 
they  were  so  strong,  and  had  got  such  a  man  as  Mr. 
Great-heart  for  their  conductor,  whether  they  had  not 
best  to  make  an  attempt  upon  the  giant,  demolish  his 
castle,  and  if  there  were  any  pilgrims  in  it,  to  set  them 

♦Heb, ▼,  2.  Isa.lxhi,    f  Jer.xxiH,  i<  Ezek, xsxiv.  11— 16. 


283 

at  liberty,  before  they  went  any  further.  So  one  said 
one  thing,  and  another  said  to  the  contrary.  One  ques- 
tioned if  it  was  lawful  to  go  upon  unconsecrated  ground ; 
another  said  they  might,  provided  their  evd  was  good. 
But  Mi.  Great-heart  said,  Though  that  assertion  otter- 
ed last  cannot  be  universally  true,  yet  I  have  a  com- 
mandment to  resist  sin,  to  overcome  evil,  to  fight  the 
good  fight  of  faith  ;  and,  1  pray,  with  whom  should  I 
fight  this  good  fight,  if  not  with  giant  Despair  ?  I  will 
therefore  attempt  the  taking  away  his  life,  and  the  de- 
molishing of  Doubting  Castle.  Then  said  he,  i  Who 
will  go  with  me  ?'  Then  said  old  Honest,  "  /  will" 
4  And  so  rje  will  too,'  said  Christiana's  four  sons,  Mat- 
thew, Samuel,  James,  and  Joseph  :  for  they  were  young 
men  and  strong.* 

So  they  left  the  women  on  the  road,  and  with  them 
Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  with  his  crutch- 
es, to  be -their  guard,  until  they  came  back  ,  for  in  that 
place,  though  giant  Despair  dwelt  so  near,  they  keep- 
ing in  the  road,  "  a  little  child  might  lead  them."t 

So  Mr.  Great-heart,  old  Honest,  and  the  four  ycung 
men,  went  to  go  up  to  Doubting  Castle  to  look  for  gi- 
ant Despair.  When  they  came  at  the  Castle  gate,  they 
knocked  for  entrance  with  an  unusual  noise.  With 
that  the  old  Giant  comes  to  the  gate,  and  Diffidence  his 
wife,  follows.  Then  said  he,  *  Who  and  what  is  he  that 
is  so  hardy,  as  after  this  manner  to  molest  the  giant 
Despair  V  Mr.  Great-heart  replied,  'It  is  I,  Great- 
heart,  one  of  the  King  of  the  celestial  country's  conduc- 
tors of  pilgrims  to  their  place  :  and  I  demand  of  thee, 
that  thou  open  thy  gates  for  my  entrance ;  prepare  thy- 
self also  to  fight,  for  I  am  come  to  take  away  thy  head, 
and  to  demolish  Doubting  Castle/ 

Now  giant  Despair,  because  ho  was  a  giant,  thought 
no  man  could  overcome  him  ;  and  again,  thought  he, 
Since  heretofore  I  have  made  a  conquest  of  angelsr  shall 
Great- heart  make  me  afraid  V  So  he  harnessed  himself, 
and  went  out :  he  had  a  cap  of  steel  upon  his  head,  a 
breast-plate  of  fire  girded  to  him,  and  he  came  out  in 
iron  shoes,  with  a  great  club  in  his  hand.  Then  these 
six  men  made  up  to  him,  and  beset  him  behind  and  be- 

*  1  John  ii,  13,  14.  i  Isaiah  xi.  6. 


£34 

fore  ;  also  when  Diffidence,  the  giantess,  came  up  to 
help  him,  old  Mr.  Honest  cut  her  down  at  one  blow. 
Then  they  fought  for  their  lives,  and  giant  Despair  was 
brought  down  to  the  ground,  but  was  very  loth  to  die  : 
he  struggled  hard,  and  had,  as  they  say,  as  many  lives 
as  a  cat ;  but  Great-heart  was  his  death :  for  he  left 
him  not  till  he  had  severed  his  head  from  his  shoulders. 

Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubting  Castle  ;  and 
that,  you  know,  might  with  ease  be  done,  since  giant 
Despair  was  dead.  They  were  seven  days  in  destroy- 
ing of  that :  and  in  it,  ol  pilgrims,  they  found  one  Mr. 
Despondency,  almost  starved  to  death,  and  one  Much- 
afraid,  his  daughter;  these  two  they  saved  alive.  But 
it  would  have  made  you  wonder,  to  have  seen  the  dead 
bodies  that  lay  here  and  there  in  the  castle-yard,  and 
how  fall  of  dead  men's  bones  the  dungeon  was. 

When  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  companions  had  per- 
formed this  exploit,  they  took  Mr.  Despondency,  and 
his  daughter  Much-afraid,  into  their  protection  ;  for 
they  were  honest  people,  though  they  were  prisoners  in 
Doubting  Castle,  to  the  giant  Despair.  They  therefore, 
I  say,  took  with  them  the  head  of  the  giant  (for  his 
body  they  had  buried  under  a  heap  of  stones)  ;  and 
down  to  the  road  and  to  their  companions  they  came, 
and  showed  them  what  they  had. done. — Now  when 
Feeble-mind  and  Ready-to-halt  saw  that  it  was  the  head 
of  giant  Despair  indeed,  they  were  very  jocund  and 
merry.  Now  Christiana,  if  need  was,  could  play  upon 
the  viol,  and  her  daughter  Mercy  upon  the  lute  :  so 
since  they  were  merry  disposed,  she  played  them  a  les- 
son, and  Ready-to- halt  would  dance.  So  he  took  Des- 
pondency^ daughter,  named  Much-afraid,  by  the  hand, 
and  to  dancing  they  went,  in  the  road.  True,  he  could 
not  dance  without  one  crutch  in  his  hand ;  but  I  prom- 
ise you,  he  footed  it  well  :  also  the  girl  was  to  be  com- 
mended, for  she  answered  the  music  handsomely. 

As  for  Mr.  Desj>ondency,  the  music  was  not  much  to 
him  :  he  was  for  feeding,  rather  than  dancing,  for  that 
he  was  almost  starved.  So  Christiana  gave  him  some 
of  her  bottle  of  spirits,  for  present  relief,  and  then  pre- 
pared him  something  to  eat ;  and  in  a  little  time  the  old 
gentleman  came  to  himself,  and  began  to  be  finely  re» 
vived. 


the  pilgrim's   PROGRESS.  28j 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  when  all  these  things  were 
finished,  Mr.  Great-heart  took  the  head  of  giant  Des- 
pair, and  set  it  upon  a  pole  by  the  high-way-side,  right 
over  against  a  pillar  that  Christian  had  erected  for  a 
caution  to  pilgrims  that  came  after,  to  take  heed  of  en- 
tering into  his  grounds. 

Th^n  he  writ  under  it,  upon  a  marble  stone,  these 
verses  following  : 

*  This  is  the  head  of  him,  whose  name  only, 

In  former  time,  did  pilgrims  terrify. 

Jlis  castle's  down,  and  Diffidence  his  wife, 

Brave  master  Great-heart  has  bereft  of  life. 

Despondency,  his  daughter  Much-afraid, 

GrcLit-heart  for  them  also  the  man  has  play'd. 

Who  hereof  doubts,  if  he'll  but  cast  his  eye 

Up  hither,  may  his  scruples  satisfy. 

This  head  also,  when  doubting  cripples  dance, 

Doth  show  from  fears  they  have  deliverance. 

When  those  men  had  thus  bravely  showed  them- 
selves against  Doubting  Castle,  and  had  siain  giant 
Despair,  they  went  forward,  and  went  on  till  they  came 
to  the  Delectable  Mountains,  where  Christian  and  Hope- 
ful refreshed  themselves  with  the  varieties  of  the  place. 
They  also  acquainted  themselves  with  the  shepherds 
there,  who  welcomed  them,  as  they  had  done  Christian 
before,  unto  the  Delectable  Mountains. 

Now  the  shepherds  seeing  so  great  a  train  follow 
Mr.  Great-heart  (for  with  him  they  were  well  acquain- 
ted) they  said  unto  him,  *  Good  sir,  you  have  got  a 
goodly  company  here  ;  pray  where  did  you  find  all 
these  ? 

Gr.-h.  *  First,  here  is  Christiana  and  her  train, 
Her  sons,  and  her  sons'  wives,  who,  like  the  wain, 
Keep  by  the  pole,  and  do  by  compass  steer 
From  sin  to  grace,  else  they  had  not  been  here. 
Next,  here's  old  Honest  come  on  pilgrimage  ; 
Ileady-to  -halt  too,  who,  I  dare  engage. 
True  hearted  is,  and  so  is  Feeble-mind, 
Who  willing  was  not  to  be  left  behind. 
Despondency,  good  man,  is  coming  after, 
And  so  also  is  Much-afraid  his  daughter, 
May  we  have  entertainment  here,  Gr  must 
We  further  go?  let's  know  whereon  to  trust.* 


286  THE    PILGRIM^    PROfigBi.fi, 

Then  said  the  shepherds,  This  is  a  comfortable  com- 
pany ;  you  are  welcome  to  us,  for  we  have  for  the  fee- 
ble, as  for  the  strong  :  our  Prince  has  an  eye  to  what  is 
done  to  the  least  of  these  :*  therefore  infirmity  must  not 
be  a  block  to  our  entertainment.  So  they  had  them  to 
the  palace  doors,  and  then  said  unto  them,  *  Come  in, 
Mr.  Feeble-mind  ;  come  in,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt ;  come 
in,  Mr.  Despondency,  and  Mrs.  Much-afraid  his  daugh- 
ter.' *  These,  Mr.  Great-heart,'  said  the  shepherds  to 
the  guide,  *  we  call  in  by  name,  for  that  they  are  most 
subject  to  draw  back  ;  but  as  for  you,  and  the  rest  that 
are  strong,  wc  leave  you  to  your  wonted  liberty.'  Then 
said  Mr.  Great-heart,  '  This  day  I  see,  that  grace  doth 
shine  in  your  faces,  and  that  you  are  my  Lord's  shep- 
herds indeed  ;  for  that  you  have  pushed  these  diseased 
neither  with  side  nor  shoulder,  but  have  rather  strewed 
their  way  into  the  palace,  with  flowers  as  you  should. 'f 

So  the  feeble  and  weak  went  in,  and  Mr.  Great-heart 
and  the  rest  did  follow.  When  they  were  also  set  down, 
the  shepherds  said  to  those  of  the  weaker  sort,  What  is 
that  you  would  have  ?  For,  said  they,  all  things  must 
be  managed  here  to  the  supporting  of  the  weak,  as 
well  as  the  warning  of  the  unruly. 

So  they  made  them  a  feast  of  things  easy  of  diges- 
tion, and  that  were  pleasant  to  the  palate  and  nourish- 
ing :  the  which  when  they  had  received,  they  went  to 
their  rest,  each  one  respectively  unto  his  proper  place. 
When  morning  was  come,  because  the  mountains  were 
high,  and  the  day  clear ;  and  because  it  was  the  custom 
of  the  shepherds  to  show  the  pilgrims,  before  their  de- 
parture, some  rarities  ;  therefore,  after  they  were  rea- 
dy, and  had  refreshed  themselves,  the  shepherds  took 
them  out  into  the  fields,  and  showed  them  first  what 
they  had  showed  to  Christian  before. 

Then  they  had  them  to  some  new  places.  The  first 
was  mount  Marvel,  where  they  looked,  and  beheld  a 
man  at  a  distance,  that  tumbled  the  hills  about  with 
words.  Then  they  asked  the  shepherds,  what  that 
should  mean  ?  So  they  told  him,  that  that  man  was  the 
son  of  one  Mr.  Great-grace  [of  whom  you  read  in  the 
first  part  of  the  records  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  :]anc] 

*  Matt,  xjv.  40.  f  Ezek.  xxxiv.  21. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  287 

he  is  set  there  to  teach  pilgrims  how  to  believe  down, 
or  to  tumble  out  of  their  ways,  what  difficulties  they 
should  meet  with,  by  faith  *  Then  said  Mr.  Great- 
heart,  '  I  know  him  ;  he  is  a  man  above  many.' 

Then  they  had  them  to  another  place,  called  mount 
Innocence :  and  there  they  saw  a  man  clothed  all  in 
white;  and  two  men,  Prejudice  and  Ill-will,  continual- 
ly casting  dirt  upon  him.  Now,  behold,  the  dirt,  what- 
soever they  cast  at  him,  would  in  a  little  time  fall  off  a« 
gain,  and  his  garment  would  look  as  clear  as  if  no  dirt 
had  been  cast  thereat. — Then  said  the  pilgrims,  What 
means  this  ?  The.shepherds  answered,  This  man  is  na- 
med Godly -man,  and  the  garment  is  to  shew  the  inno- 
cency  of  his  life.  Now  those  that  throw  dirt  at  him, 
are  such  as  hate  his  well-doing  ;  but  as  you  see  the 
dirt  will  not  stick  upon  his  clothes,  so  it  shall  be  with 
him  that  lives  truly  innocently  in  the  world.  Whoever 
they  be  that  would  make  such  men  dirty,  they  labour 
all  in  vain  ;  for  God,  by  that  a  little  time  is  spent,  will 
cause  that  their  innocence  shall  break  forth  as  the  light, 
and  their  righteousness  as  the  noon-day. 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  mount  Chari- 
ty, where  they  showed  them  a  man  that  had  a  bundle 
of  cloth  lying  before  him,  out  of  which  he  cut  coats  and 
garments  for  the  poor  that  stood  about  him ;  yet  his 
bundle  or  roll  of  cloth  was  never  the  less.  Then  said 
they,  What  should  this  be  ?  This  is,  said  the  shepherds, 
to  show  you,  that  he  that  has  a  heart  to  give  of  his  la- 
bor to  the  poor,  shall  never  want  wherewithal.  "  He 
that  watereth,  shall  be  watered  himself."  And  the 
cake,  that  the  widow  gave  to  the  prophet,  did  not  cause 
that  she  had  ever  the  less  in  her  barrei. 

They  had  them  also  to  the  place,  where  they  saw 
one  Fool,  and  one  Want-wit,  washing  of  an  Ethiopian, 
with  an  intention  to  make  him  white ;  but  the  more 
they  washed  him,  the  blacker  he  was.  Then  they  as- 
ked the  shepherds,  what  that  should  mean  ?  So  they 
told  them*  saying,  Thus  shall  it  be  with  the  vile  per- 
son ;  all  means  used  to  get  such  a  one  a  good  name, 
shall  in  conclusion  tend  but  to  make  him  more  abomin- 

♦Markxi.  23,  24,. 


-83  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

able.     Thus  it  was  with  the  Pharisees,  and  so  it  shall 
be  with  all  hypocrites. 

Then  said  Mercy,  the  wife  of  Matthew,  to  Christia- 
na her  mother,  I  would,  if  it  might  be,  see  the  hole  in 
the  hill,  or  that  commonly  called  the  By-way  to  hell. 
So  her  mother  brake  her  mind  to  the  shepherds.  Then 
they  went  to  the  door  (it  was  on  the  side  of  an  hill  ;) 
and  they  opened  it,  and  bid  Mercy  hearken  awhile.  So 
she  hearkened,  and  heard  one  saying,  4  C  ursed  be  my 
father,  for  holding  of  my  feet  back  from  the  way  of 
peace  and  life  :'  And  another  said,  O  that  I  had  been 
torn  in  pieces,  jefore  I  had,  to  save  my  life,  lost  my 
soul :  And  another  said,  *  If  I  were  to  live  again,  how 
would  I  deny  myself,  rather  than  come  to  this  place  I' 
Then  there  was  as  if  the  very  earth  groaned  and  quaked 
under  the  feet  of  this  young  woman  for  fear  ;  so  she 
looked  white  and  came  trembling  away,  saying,  *  Bless- 
ed be  he  and  she  that  is  delivered  from  this  place/ 

New  when  the  shepherds  had  shown  them  all  these 
things,  then  they  had  them  back  to  the  palace,  and  en- 
tertained them  with  what  the  house  would  afford  :  but 
Mercy  being  a  young  and  breeding  woman,  longed  for 
something  that  she  saw  there  but  was  ashamed  to  ask. 
Her  mother-in-law  then  asked  her,  what  she  ailed,  for 
she  looked  as  one  not  well.  Then  said  Mercy,  There 
is  a  looking-glass  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room,  off 
which  I  cannot  take  my  mind  ;  if  therefore  I  have  it  not, 
I  think  I  shall  miscarry.  Then  said  her  mother,  I  shall 
mention  thy  wants  to  the  shepherds,  and  they  will  not 
deny  it  thee.  But  she  said,  I  am  ashamed  that  these 
men  should  know  that  I  longed.  Nay,  my  daughter, 
said  she,  it  is  no  shame,  but  a  virtue,  to  long  for  such 
a  thing  as  that.  So  Mercy  said, ^T hen,  mother,  if  you 
please,  ask  the  shepherds  if  they  are  willing  to  sell  it. 

Now  the  glass  was  one  of  a  thousand.  It  would 
present  a  man,  one  way,  with  his  own  features  exact- 
ly ;  and  turn  it  but  another  way,  and  it  would  show 
cue  the  very  face  and  similitude  of  the  Prince  of  pil- 
grims himself.  Yes,  I  have  talked  with  them  that  can 
tell,  and  they  have  said,  that  they  have  seen  the  very 
crown  of  thorns  upon  his  head,  by  looking  in  that 
gless  ;  they  have  therein  also  seen  the  holes  in  his 
hands,  in  his  feet,  and  in  his  side.    Yet?  such  an  excel- 


I  he  pilgrim's  progress.  28S> 

iency  is  there  in  that  glass,  that  it  will  show  him  to  one 
where  they  have  a  mind  to  see  him  ;  whether  living-  or 
dead,  whether  in  earth,  or  in  heaven  ;  whether  in  a  state 
of  humiliation,  or  in  his  exultation  ;  whether  coming  to 
suffer,  or  coming  to  reign.* 

Christiana  therefore  went'  to  the  shepherds  apart 
(now  the  names  of  the  shepherds  were  Knowledge,  Ex- 
perience, Watchful,  and  Sincere),  and  said  unto  them, 
There  is  one  of  my  daughters,  a  breeding  woman,  that, 
I  think,  doth  long  for  something  that  she  hath  seen  in 
this  house,  and  she  thinks  she  shall  miscarry,  if  she 
should  by  you  be  denied. 

Exfier.  Call  her,  call  her  :  she  shall  assuredly  have 
what  we  can  help  her  to.  So  they  called  her,  and  said 
to  her,  Mercy,  what  is  that  thing  that  thou  wouldest 
have  ?  Then  she  blushed,  and  said,  The  great  glass 
that  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room.  So  Sincere  ran  and 
fetched  it,  and  with  a  joyful  consent  it  was  given  her. 
Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and  gave  thanks,  and  said, 
By  this  I  know  that  I  have  obtained  favor  in  your  eyes. 

They  also  gave  to  the  other  young  women  such  things 
as  they  desired,  and  to  their  husbands  great  commen- 
dations, for  that  they  had  joined,  with  Mr.  Great- heart, 
in  the  slaying  of  giant  Despair,  and  the  demolishing  of 
Doubting  Castle.  About  Christiana's  neck  the  shep- 
herds put  a  bracelet,  and  so  they  did  about  the  necks 
of  her  four  daughters ;  also  they  put  ear-rings  in  their 
ears,  and  jewels  on  their  foreheads. 

When  they  were  minded  to  go  hence,  they  let  them 
go  in  peace,  but  gave  not.  to  them  those  certain  cautions 
which  before  were  given  to  Christian  and  his  compan- 
ions. The  reason  was,  for  that  these  had  Great-heart 
to  be  their  guide,  who  was  one  that  was  well  acquain- 
ted with  things,  and  so  could  give  them  their  cautions 
more  seasonable ;  to  wit,  even  then  when  the  danger 
was  nigh  the  approaching.  What  cautions  Christian 
and  his  companion  had  received  of  the  shepherds,  they 
had  also  lost  by  that  the  time  was  come  that  they  had 
need  to  put  them  in  practice.  Wherefore,  here  was  the 
advantage  that  this  company  had  over  the  other. 

From  hence  they  went  on  singing,  and  they  said  ; 

*  James  i.  23—25.    1  Cor.  xiii,  12.    2  Cor.  iii,  18. 
Aa 


290  the  pilgrim's  progress, 

•  Behold,  how  fitly  are  the  tables  set 

Eor  their  relief  that  pilgrims  are- become, 
And  how  they  us  receive  without  one  let, 

That  make  the  other  life  the  mark  and  home. 
What  novelties  they  have,  to  us  they  give, 

That  we,  though  pilgrims,  joyful  lives  may  live. 
They  do  upon  us,  too,  sunn  things  bestow, 

Tiiat  show  we  pilgrims  are,  where'er  we  go. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  shepherds,  they 
quickly  came  to  the  place  Where  Christian  met  with 
one  Turn-away,  that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostacy. 
Wherefore  of  him,  Mr.  Great-heart  their  guide,  did 
now  put  them  in  mind,  saying,  This  is  the  place  where 
Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away,  who  carried  with 
him  the  character  of  his  rebellion  at  his  back.  And 
this  I  have  to  say  concerning  this  man — he  would  hear- 
ken to  no  counsel,  but,  once  a  falling,  persuasion  could 
not  stop  him.  When  he  came  to  the  place  where  the 
cross  and  the  sepulchre  was  he  did  meet  with  one  that 
did  bid  him  look  there,  but  he  gnashed  with  his  teeth, 
and  stamped,  and  said,  he  was  resolved  to  go  back  to 
his  own  town.  Before  he  came  to  the  gate,  he  met 
with  Evangelist,  who  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him  to 
turn  him  into  the  way  again.  But  this  Turn-away  re- 
sisted him,  and  having  done  despite  unto  him,  he  got  a- 
way  over  the  \vall,  and  so  escaped  his  hand. 

Then  they  went  on  :  and,  just  at  the  place  where 
Little-faith  formerly  was  robbed,  there  stood  a  man  with 
his  sword  drawn,  and  his  face  all  bloody.  Then  said 
Mr,  Great-heart,  What  art  thou  ?  The  man  made  an- 
swer saying,  I  am  one  whose  name  is  Valiant-for-truth  : 
I  am  a  pilgrim,  and  am  going  to  the  Celestial  City. 
Now,  ?s  I  was  in  my  way,  there  were  three  men  that 
did  beset  me,  and  propounded  unto  me  these  three 
things  :  Whether  I  would  become  one  of  them  ;  or  go 
back  from  whence  I  came  ;  or  die  upon  the  place  ?  To 
the  first  I  answered,  1  had  been  a  true  man  a  long  sea- 
son, and  therefore  it  could  not  be  expected  that  1  now 
should  cast  in  my  lot  with  thieves.*  Then  they  deman- 
ded what  I  would  say  to  the  second.  So  I  told  them 
the  place  from  whence  I  came,  had  I  not  found  incom- 

*Prov.i.  10—19. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  291 

modity  there,  I  had  not  forsaken  it  at  all  ;  but  finding 
it  altogether  unsuitable  to  me^  and  very  unprofitable  for 
me,  I  forsook  it  for  this  way.  Then  they  asked  me 
what  I  said  to  the  third  1  And  I  told  them,  My  life  cost 
more  dear  far,  than  that  I  should  lightly  give  it  away  ; 
besides,  you  have  nothing  to  do  to  put  things  to  my 
choice  ;  wherefore  at  your  peril  be  it  ii  you  meddle. 
Then  these  three,  to  wit,  Wildhead,  Inconsiderate,  and 
Pragmatic,  drew  upon  me,  and  1  also  dre.w  upon  them. 
So  we  fell  to  it,  one  against  three,  for  the  space  of 
three  hours.  They  have  left  upon  me,  as  you  see, 
some  of  tne  marks  of  their  valor,  and  have  also  earned 
away  with  them  some  of  mine.  They  are  but  just  now 
gone  ;  I  suppose  they  might,  as  the  saying  is,  hear  your 
horse  dash,  and  so  they  betook  themselves  to  flight. 

Gr.-h.  But  here  was  great  odds,  three  against  one. 

Val.  'Tis  true;  but  little  or  more  are  nothing  to  him 
that  has  the  truth  on  his  side  :  "  Though  an  host  should 
encamp  against  me,"  said  one,  "  my  heart  shall  not 
fear  :  though  war  shall  rise  against  me,  in  this  will  I 
be  confident,"  8cc.  Besides,  said  he,  I  have'  rea,d  in 
some  records,  that  one  man  has  fought  an  army  :  and 
how  many  did  Sampson  slay  with  the  jaw  bone  of  an 
ass  ? 

Then  said  the  guide,  why  did  you  not  cry  out,  that 
some  might  have  come  in  for  your  succour? 

Val.  So  I  did  to  my  King,  who  I  knew  could  hear 
me,  and  afford  invisible  help,  and  that  was  enough  for 
me. 

Then  said  Great-heart  to  Mr.  Valiant- for- truth,  Thou 
hast  worthily  behaved  thyself ;  let  me  see  thy  sword  : 
so  he  showed  it  him.  When  he  had  taken  it  into  his 
hand,  and  locked  thereon  awhile,  be  said,  Ha  !  it  is  a 
right  Jerusalem  blade. 

Val.  It  is  so.  Let  a  man  have  one  of  these  blades, 
with  a  hand  to  wield  it,  and  skill  to  use  it,  and  he  may 
venture  upon  an  angel  with  it.  Pie  need  not  fear  its 
holding,  if  he  can  but  tell  how  to  lay  on.  Its  edge  will 
never  blunt.  It  will  cut  flesh  and  bones,  and  soul  and 
spirit  and  all. 

Gr.-h.  But  you  fought  a  great  while  ;  I  wonder  you 
was  not  weary. 

Val.  I  fought  till  my  sword  did  cleave  to  my  hand, 


292  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

and  then  they  were  joined  together,  as  if  a  sword  grew 
out  of  my  arm  ;  and  when  the  blood  run  through  my 
fingers,  then  I  fought  with  most  courage. 

Gr.-h.  Thou  hast  done  well  ;  thou  hast  "  resisted 
unto  blood,  striving  against  sin  :*'  thou  shalt  abide  by 
us,  come  in  and  go  out  with  us,  for  we  are  thy  compan- 
ions. 

Then  they  took  him,  and  washed  his  wounds,  and 
gave  him  of  what  they  had  to  refresh  him  :  and  so 
they  went  together.  Now  as  they  went  on,  because 
Mr.  Great- heart  was  delighted  in  him  (for  he  loved  one 
greatly  that  he  found  to  be  a  man  of  his  hands ;)  and 
because  there  were  in  company  them  that  were  feeble 
and  weak,  therefore  he  questioned  with  him  about  ma- 
ny things  ;  as  first,  what  countryman  he  was  ? 

Val.  I  am  of  Dark-land,  for  there  I  was  born,  and 
there  my  father  and  mother  are  still. 

Dark-land  I  said  the  guide  :  doth  not  that  lie  on  the 
same  coast  with  the  city  of  Destruction  ? 

Val.  Yes,  it  doth.  Now  that  which  caused  me  to 
come  on  pilgrimage,  was  this  :  we  had  Mr.  Tell-true 
come  into  our  parts,  and  he  teld  it  about  what  Chris- 
tian had  dene,  that  went  from  the  City  of  Destruction, 
namely,  how  he  had  forsa.kenhis  wife  and  children,  and 
had  betaken  himself  to  a  pilgrim's  life.  It  was  also 
confidently  reported,  how  he  had  killed  a  serpent,  that 
did  come  out  to  resist  him  in  his  journey  ;  and  how  he 
got  through  to  whither  he  intended.  It  was  also  told, 
what  welcome  he  had  to  his  Lord's  lodgings,  especial- 
ly when  he  came  to  the  gates  of  the  Celestial  city;  for 
there,  said  the  man,  he  was  received  with  sound  of 
trumpet,  by  a  company  of  shining  ones.  He  told  it  al- 
so, how  all  the  bells  in  the  city  did  ring  for  joy  at  his  re- 
ception, and  what  golden  garments  he  was  clothed 
with  ;  with  many  other  things  that  now  1  shall  forbear 
to  relate.  In  a  word,  that  man  so  told  the  story  of 
Christian  and  his  travels,  that  my  heart  fell  into  a  burn- 
ing heat  to  be  gone  after  him  :  nor  could  father  or  mo- 
ther stay  me.  So  I  got  from  them  and  am  come  thus 
far  on  my  way. 

Gr.-h.  You  came  in  at  the  gate,  did  you  not  ? 

Val.  Yes,  yes  ;  for  the  same  man  also  told  us,  thai 


the  pilgrim's  progress.  293 

all  would  be  nothing,  if  we  did  not  begin  to  enter  this  way 
at  the  gate. 

Look  you,  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  the  pilgrim- 
age of  your  husband,  and  what  he  has  gotten  thereby, 
is  spread  abroad  far  and  near. 

Val.  Why,  is  this  Christian's  wife  ? 

Gr.-h.  Yes,  that  it  is ;  and  these  are  also  her  four 
sons. 

Val.  What !  and  going  on  pilgrimage  too  ? 

Gr.h.  Yes,  verily,  they  are  following  after. 

Vat.  It  glads  me  at  heart ;  good  man,  how  joyful  will 
he  be,  when  he  shall  see  them,  that  would  not  go  with 
him,  to  enter  before  him  at  the  gates  into  the  Celestial 
city! 

Gr.-h.  Without  doubc  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  him ; 
ior,  next  to  the  joy  of  seeing  himself  there,  it  will  be  a 
joy  to  meet  there  his  wife  and  children. 

Val.  But,  now  you  are  upon  that,  pray  let  me  hear 
your  opinion  about  it.  Some  make  a  question,  wheth- 
er we  shall  know  one  another  when  we  are  there. 

Gr.~h.  Do  they  think  they  shall  know  themselves 
then,  or  that  they  shall  rejoice  to  see  themselves  in  that 
bliss  ?  and  if  they  think  they  shall  know  and  do  these, 
why  not  know  others,  and  rejoice  in  their  welfare  also  ? 
Again,  since  relations  are  our  second  self,  though  that 
stale  will  be  dissolved,  yet  why  may  it  not  be  rationally 
concluded  that  we  shall  be  more  glad  to  see  them  there, 
than  to  see  they  are  wanting  ? 

Val.  Well,  I  perceive  whereabouts  you  are  as  to  this. 
Have  you  any  more  things  to  ask  me  about  my  hegin-< 
ningto  come  on  pilgrimage  ? 

Gr-h.  Yes  :  was  your  father  and  mother  willing  that 
you  should  become  a  pilgrim  ? 

Val.  Oh!  no;  they  used  all  means  imaginable  to 
persuade  me  to  stay  at  home. 

Gr.-h  What  could  they  say  against  it  ? 

Val.  They  sar ,  it  was  an  idle  life  !  and,  if  I.  myself 
were  not  inclined  to  sloth  and  laziness,  I  would  "never 
countenance  a  pilgrim's  condition. 

Gr.-h.  And  what  did  they  say  else  ? 

Val  Why  they  told  me  it  was  a  dangerous  way  ; 
Aa2 


£94  THE    PILGRIM'S    PR0SR233* 

yea,  the  most  dangerous  way  in  the  world,  say  they,  Is 
that  which  the  pilgrims  go. 

Gr.-h.  Did  they  show  you  wherein  this  way  is  dan- 
gerous  ? 

VaL  Yes  ;  and  that  in  many  particulars. 

Gr.-h.  Name  some  of  them. 

VaL  They  told  me  of  the  slough  of  Despond  \  where' 
in  Christian  was  well  nigh  smothered.  They  told  me 
that  there  were  archers  standing  ready  in  Beelzebub 
Castle,  to  shoot  them  that  should  knock  at  the  Wicket- 
gate  for  entrance.  They  told  m?  also  of  the  wood  and 
dark  mountains,  of  the  hill  of  Difficulty,  of  the  lions  : 
and  also  of  the  three  giants  Bloody-man,  Maul,  and 
Slay-good  :  they  said,  moreover,  that  there  was  a  foul 
fiend  haunted  the  valley  of  Humiliation  ;  and  that  Chris- 
tian was  by  him  almost  bereft  of  life.  Besides,  said 
they,  you  must  go  over  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  oi 
Death,  where  the  hobgoblins  are,  where  the  light  is 
darkness,  where  the  way  is  full  of  snares,  pits,  traps,  and 
gins.— They  told  me  also  of  giant  Despair,  of  Doubting 
Castle,  and  of  the  ruin  the  pilgrims  met  with  there. 
Further,  they  said,.  I  must  go  over  the  Enchanted 
Ground,  which  was  dangerous.  And  that  after  all  this 
I  should  find  a  river  over  which  I  should  find  no 
bridge  ;  and  that  that  ri?er  did  lie  betwixt  me  and  the 
Celestial  country. 

Gr.-h.  And  was  this,  all  ? 

VaL  No  :  they  also  told  me,  that  this  way  was  full  of 
deceivers ;  and  of  persons  that  lay  in,  wait  there,  to 
turn,  good  men  out  of  their  path. 

Gr.-h.  But  how  did  they  make  that  out  ? 

VvU  They  told  me  that  Mr.  Worldry-wise-tnsn.  did 
lie  there  ki  wait  to  deceive.  They  also  said,  that  there 
was  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  continually  on  the  road. 
They  said  also,  that  By-ends,  Talkative,  or  Qemas> 
would  go  near  to  gather  me  up  :  that  the  Flatterer 
would  catch  me  in  his  net ;  or  that  with  green  headed 
Ignorance,  I  would  presume  to  go  on  to  the  gate,  fron* 
whence  he  was  sent  back  to  the  hole  that  was  in  the  side, 
of  the  hill,  and  made  to  go  the  by-way  to  hell. 

Gr.-h*  I  promise  you,  this  was  enough  to  discourage 
thee.     But  did  they  make  on  end  there  ? 

Val  No,  stay.    They  told  rue  also  of  many  that  tried 


TEE    PILGRIM'8    PHOGKLSe.  295 

that  way  of  old,  and  that  had  gone  a  great  way  therein, 
to  see  if  they  could  find  something  of  the  glory  there, 
that  so  many  had  so  much  talked  of  from  time  to  time  ; 
and  how  they  came  back  again,  and  befooled  themselves 
for  setting  a  toot  out  of  doors  in  that  path, — to  the  sat- 
isfaction of  the  country.  And  they  named  several  that 
did  so,  as  Obstinate  and  Pliable,  Mistrust  and  Timor- 
ous, Turn-away  and  old  Atheist,  with  several  more  ; 
who,  they  said,  had  some  of  them  gone  far  to  see 
what  they  could  find  ;  but  not  one  of  them  found  so 
much  advantage  by  going,  as  amounted  to  the  weight 
of  a  feather. 

Gr.-h.  Said  they  any  thing  more  to  discourage  you  ? 

Val.  Yes  ;  they  told  of  one  Mr.  Fearing,  who  was  a 
pilgrim  ;  and  how  he  found  his  way  so  solitary,  that  he 
never  had  a  comfortable  hour  therein  :  also  that  Mr. 
Despondency  had  like  to  have  been  starved  therein,  yea, 
and  also  (which  I  had  almost  forgot)  Christian  himself, 
about  whom  there  has  been  such  a  noise,  after  all  his 
■ventures  for  a  Celestial  crown,  was  certainly  drowned 
in  the  black  river,  and  never  went  a  foot  further,  how- 
ever it  was  smothered  up. 

Gr.-h.  And  did  none  of  these  things  discourage  you  r 

Val.  No  ;  they  seemed  as  sr>  many  nothings  to  me. 

Gr.  h.  How  came  that  about  ? 

Val,  Why,  I  still  believed  what  Mr.  Tell-true  had 
said,  and  that  carried  me  beyond  them  all. 

Gr.-h.  Then  this  was  your  \ictory,  even  your  faith. 

Val.  It  was  so  :  I  believed,  and  therefore  came  our^ 
got  into  the  way,  fought  all  that  set  themselves  against 
me,  and,  by  believing,  am  come  to  this  place  ! 

*  Who  would  true  valor  see, 

Let  him  come  hither  : 
One  here  will  constant  be, 

Cobq<}  wind,  come  weather; 
There's  no  discouragement  } 

Shall  make  him  once  relent  { 

His  first  avow'd  intent  } 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 
Whoso  beset  him  round 

With  dismal  stories, 
Do  but  themselves  confound. 

His,  strength  the  more,  & 


296 

A'o  lion  can  Iiim  Fright, 
Jle'll  with  a  giant  tight, 
But  he  will  lmve  a  right 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 
Hobgoblin  nor  foul  fiend 

Can  daunt  his  spirit ; 
He  knows,  he  at  the  end, 

Shall  life  inherit. 
Then  fancies  fly  away, 
He'll  not  fear  what  men  say, 
lie' 11  labor  night  and  day 

To  be  a  piigrim. 

By  this  time  they  were  got  to  the  Enchanted  Ground, 
where  the  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy  : 
and  that  place  was  all  grown  over  with  briers  and 
thorns,  excepting  here  and  there,  where  was  an  enchan- 
ted arbor,  upon  which  if  a  man  sits,  or  in 'which  if  a 
man  sleeps,  'tis  a  question,  say  some,  whether  ever  he 
shall  rise  or  wake  again  in  this  world.  Over  this  forest 
therefore  they  went,  both  one  and  another ;  and  Mr. 
Great-heart  went  before,  for  that  he  was  the  guide,  and 
Mr.  Valiant-for-truth  came  behind,  being  rear-guard  ; 
for  fear  lest  peradventure  some  fiend,  or  lion,  or  drag- 
on, or  giant,  or  thief,  should  fall  upon  their  rear,  and  so 
do  m'uehief.  They  went  on  here,  each  man  with  his 
sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  they  knew  it  was  a  dan- 
gerous plaee.  Also  they  cheered  up  one  another,  as 
well  as  they  could ;  Feeble-mind,  Mr.  Great-heart 
commanded,  should  come  up  after  him,  and  Mr.  Des- 
pondency was  under  the  eye  of  Mr.  Valiant. 

Now  they  had  not  gone  far,  but  a  great  mist  and  dark- 
ness fell  upon  them  all ;  so^that  they  could  scarce,  for 
a  great  while,  one  see  the  other ;  wherefore  they  were 
forced  for  some  time,  to  feel  for  one  another  by  words, 
for  they  walked  not  by  sight.  But  any  one  must  think, 
that  here  was  but  sorry  going  for  the  best  of  them  all; 
and  how  much  the  worse  was  it  for  the  women  and 
children,  who  both  of  feet  and  heart  were  also  but  ten- 
der !  Yet  nevertheless  so  it  was,  that  through  the  en- 
couraging words  of  him  that  led  in  the  front,  and  of  him 
that  brought  them  up  behind,  they  made  pretty  good 
shift  to  wag  along. 

The  way  was  also  fcere  yery  wearisome,  through  dirt 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  297 

and  slabbiness.  Nor  was  there,  on  all  this  ground,  so 
much  as  one  inn  or  victualling-house,  wherein  to  re- 
fresh the  feebler  sort.  Here  therefore  was  grunting, 
and  puffing,  and  sighing :  while  one  tumblcth  over  a 
bush,  another  sticks  fast  in  the  dirt  :  and  the  children, 
some  of  them  lost  their  shoes  in  the  mire  :  while  one 
cries  out,  ll  am  down  :'  and  another,  '  Ho  t  where  are 
you  V  And  a  third,  *  The  bushes  have  got  fast  hold  on 
me,  I  think  I  cannot  get  away  from  them.' 

Then  they  came  to  an  arbor,  warm,  and  promising 
much  refreshing  to  the  pilgrims  :  for  it  was  finely 
wrought  above- head,  beautified  with  greens,  furnished 
with  benches  and  settles.  It  had  in  it  a  soft  couch, 
where  the  weary  might  lean.  This,  you  must  think,  all 
things-considered,  was  tempting ;  for  the  pilgrims  alrea- 
dy began  to  be  foiled  with  the  badness  of  the  way ;  but 
there  was  not  one  of  them  made  so  much  as  a  motion 
to  stop  there.  Yea,  for  ought  I  could  perceive,  they 
continually  gave  so  good  heed  to  the  advice  of  their 
guide,  and  he  did  so  faithfully  tell  them  of  dangers,  and 
of  the  nature  of  dangers,  when  they  were  at  them,  that 
usually  when  they  were  the  nearest  to  them,  they  did 
most  pluck  up  their  spirits,  and  hearten  one  another  to 
deny  the  flesh. — The  arbor  vas  called  the  SlothfuFs 
Friend,  on  purpose  to  allure,  if  it  might  be  some  of  the 
pilgrims  there  to  take  up  their  rest  when  weary. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  in  this 
their  solitary  ground,  till  they  came  to  a  place  at  which 
a  man  is  apt  to  lose  his  way.  Now,  though  when  it 
was  light,  their  guide  could  well  enough  tell  how  to 
miss  those  ways  that  led  wrong,  yet  in  the  dark  he  was 
put  to  a  stand  :  but  he  had  in  his  pocket  a  map  of  all 
the  ways  leading  to  or  from  the  Celestial  city  ;  where- 
fore he  struck  a  light  (for  he  never  goes  also  without 
his  tinder-box)  and  takes  a  view  of  his  book  or  map, 
which  bids  him  be  careful  in  that  place,  to  Hirn  to  the 
right  hand.  And  had  he  not  here  been  careful  to  look 
in  his  map,  they  had  in  all  probability  been  smothered 
in  the  mud  ;  for  just  a  little  before  them,  and  that  at 
the  end  of  the  clearest  way  too,  was  a  pit,  none  knows 
how  deep,  full  of  nothing  but  mud,  there  made  on  pur- 
pose to  destroy  the  pilgrims  in. 

Then  thought  1  with  myself,  who,  that  goeth  on  pi!- 


298  THE 

grimage,  but  would  have  one  of  these  maps  about  him, 
that  he  roay  look  when  he  is  at  a  stand,  which  is  the 
way  he  must  take. 

They  went  on,  then,  in  this  Enchanted  Ground,  till 
they  came  to  where  there  was  another  arbour,  and  it 
was  built  by  the  high- way-side.  And  in  that  at  hour  lay 
two  men,  whose  names  were  Heedless  and  Too-bold. 
These  two  went  thus  far  on  pilgrimage  ;  but  here,  be- 
ing wearied  with  their  journey,  sat  down  to  rest  them- 
selves, and  so  fejl  f  st  asleep.  When  the  pilgrims  saw 
them,  they  stood  still,  and  shook  their  heads  ;  for  they 
knew  that  the  sleepers  were  in  a  pitiful  case.  Then 
they  consulted  what  to  do,  whether  to  goon,  and  leave 
them  in  their  sleep,  or  step  to  them,  and  try  to  awake 
them.  So  thry  concluded  to  go  to  them,  and  awake 
them  :  that  is,  if  they  could  :  but  with  this  caution, 
namely,  to  take  heed  that  themselves  did  not  sit  down, 
nor  embrace  the  offered  benefit  of  that  arbour. 

So  they  went  in,  and  spake  to  the  men,  and  called 
each  by  his  name  (for  the  guide,  it  seems,  did  know 
them)  but  there  was  no  voice,  nor  answer.  Then  the- 
guide  did  shake  them,  and  do  what  he  could  to  disturb 
them.  Then  sah!  one  of  them,  'I  will  pay  you  when  I 
take  my  rnon^y.'  At  which  the  guide  shook  his  head. 
*  I  wiil  fi^ht  so  long  as  I  can  held  my  sword  in  my  hand/ 
said  the  oilier.     At  that  one  of  the  children  laughed. 

Then  said  Christiana,  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  2 
Then  the  guide  said,  They  talk  in  their  sleep ;  if  you 
do  strike  them  or  beat  them,  or  whatever  else  you  do 
unto  them,  they  will  answer  you  after  this  fashion  ;  or 
as  one  of  them  said  in  old  time,  when  the  waves  of  the 
sea  did  beat  upon  him,  and  he  slept  as  one  upon  the  mast 
cf  a  ship.  "  W-h?n  I  do  awake,  1  will  seek  it  yet  a- 
gain."*  You  know,  when  men  talk  in  their  sleep,  they 
say  any  thing ;  but  their  words  are  not  governed  either 
by  faith  or  reason.  There  is  an  incoherency  in  their 
words  now  ;  even  as  there  was  before,  betwixt  their  go- 
ing on  pi'grimage,  and  their  sitting  down  here.  This 
then  is  the  mischief  on't,  when  heedless  one9  go  on  pil- 
grimage ;  twenty  to  one  but  they  are  served  thus.  For 
Ibis  Enchanted  grounn1  is  one  of  the  last  refuges  that  the 

*  Prov.  xxii.  34,  35, 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESSt  299 

oncmy  to  pilgrims  Las ;  wherefore  it  is, as  you  see,  pla- 
otd  almost  at  the  end  of  the  way,  and  so  it  standeth  a- 
gainst  us  with  the  more  advantage.  For  when  thinks 
the  enemy,  will  these  fools  be  so  desirous  to  sit  down, 
as  when  they  are  weary  ?  And  at  what  lime  =o  likely 
for  to  be  weary,  as  when  they  are  almost  at  their  jour- 
Key's  end  .'  Therefore  it  i3,  I  say,  that  the  Enchanted 
Ground  is  placed  so  nigh  to  the  laud  Beulah,  and  so 
near  the  end  of  their  race*  Wherefore  let  pilgrims 
look  to  themselves,  Itstit  happen  to  them  as  it  has  clone 
to  these  that,  as  yen  see,  are  fallen  asleep,  and  none  can 
awake  them. 

Then  the  pilgrims  desired,  with  trembling  to  go  for- 
ward; only  they  prayed  their  guide  to  strike  a  light, 
that  they  might  go  tne  rest  of  their  way  by  the  help  of 
the  light  of  a  lantern.  So  he  struck  a  light,  and  they 
went  by  the  heip  of  that,  through  the  rest  of  this  way, 
though  the  darkness  was  very  great. 

But  the  children  began  to  be  sorely  weary  ;  and  they 
cried  out  unto  Him  that  loveth  pilgrims,  to  make  their 
way  more  comfortable.  So  by  that  they  had  gone  a  lit- 
tle further,  a  wind  arose,  that  drove  away  the  fog ;  so 
the  air  became  more  clear.  Yet  they  were  not  off,  by 
much,  of  the  Enchanted  Ground,  but  only  now  they 
could  see  one  another  better,  and  also  the  way  wherein 
they  should  walk. 

Now  when  they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  this  ground, 
they  perceived,  that  a  little  before  them  was  a  solemn 
noise  of  one  that  was  much  concerned.  So  they  went 
on,  and  looked  before  them  :  and,  behold,  they  saw,  as 
they  thought,  a  man  upon  his  knees,  with  his  hands  and 
eyes  lifted  up,  and  speaking,  as  they  thought,  earnestly 
to  one  that  was  above.  They  drew  nigh,  but  could  not 
tell  what  he  said  ;  so  they  went  softly  till  he  had  done. 
When  he  had  done,  he  got  up  and  began  to  run  to- 
wards the  Celestial  city.  Then  Mr.  Great-heart  called 
after  him,  saying,  '  Soho,  friend,  let  us  have  your  com- 
pany, if  ycu  go,  as  I  suppose  you  do,  to  the  Celestial  ci- 
ty.' So  the  man  stopped,  and  they  came  up  to  him: 
but  so  soon  as  Mr.  Honest  saw  him,  he  said,  '  1  know 
this  man/  Then  said  Mr.  Valiant- for- truth, '  Pr'ythee, 
who  is  it?'    [  'Tis  one/   said   he,  '  that  comes  from 


■iOO  THE    FILGKIM'8    PROGRESS. 

whereabouts  I  dwelt :  his  name  is  Standfast;  he  is  cer- 
tainly a  right  good  pilgrim.' 

So  they  came  up  to  one  another;  and  presently 
Standfast  said  to  old  Honest,  *  Ho !  father  Honest,  are 
vou  there  ?'  '  Aye,'  said  he, *  that  I  am,  as  sure  as  you 
aretheie.'  ■  Right  glad  am  I,'  said  Mr.  Standfast/ that 
I  have  found  you  on  this  road,'  *  And  as  glad  am  I,' 
said^he  other,  *  that  1  espied  you  on  your  knees/  Then 
Mr.  Standfast  blushed,  and  said,  4  But  why ;  did  you 
see  me  ?  «  Yes,  that  1  did,'  quoth  the  other,  '  and  with 
my  heart  was  glad  at  the  sight.'  '  Why,  what  did  you 
think  V  said  Standfast.  '  Think  !'  said  old  Honest, 
'  what  should  1  think  ?  I  thought  we  had  an  honest  man 
.ipon  the  road,  therefore  should  have  his  company  by 
and  by.'  *  If  you  thought  not  amiss,  how  happy  am  I ; 
but,  0  I  be  not  as  I  should,  'tis  I  alone  must  bear  it.' 
*  That  is  true,'  said  the  other  ;  *  but  your  fear  doth  fur- 
ther confirm  me,  that  things  are  right  betwixt  the 
Prince  of  pilgrims  and  your  soul :  for  he  saith,  "  Bles- 
sed is  the  man  that  feareth  always." 

Val.  Well,  but  brother,  I  pray  thee  tell  us.  what  was 
it  that  was  the  cause  of  thy  being  upon  thy  knees  even 
now  ?  Was  it  for  some  obligations  laid  by  special  mer- 
cies upon  thee,  or  how  ? 

Stand.  Why,  we  are,  as  you  see,  upon  the  Enchant- 
ed Ground  ;  and  as  I  was  coming  along,  I  was  mus- 
ing with  myself,  of  what  a  dangerous  nature  the  road  in 
this  piace  was  ;  and  how  many,  that  had  come  even 
thus  far  on  pilgrimage,  had  here  been  stopt  and  been 
destroyed.  I  thought  also  of  the  manner  of  death  with 
which  this  place  destroyeth  men.  Those  that  die  here, 
die  of  no  violent  distemper :  the  death  which  such  do 
die  is  not  grievous  to  them  ;  for  he  that  goeth  away  in 
a  sleep,  begins  that  journey  with  desire  and  pleasure  : 
yea,  such  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  that  disease. 

Then  Mr.  Honest,  interrupting  of  him,  said,  Did  you 
see  the  two  men  asleep  in  the  arbour  ? 

S'and.  Ay,  ay,  I  saw  Heedless  and  also  Too-bold 
there  ;  and,  for  aught  I  know,  there  they  will  lie  until 
they  rot  :*  and  let  me  go  on  with  my  tale. — As  I  was 
thus  musing,  as  I  said,  there  was  one  in  pleasant  attire : 

*  James  ir,  4<  1  Johu  iii,  14, 15. 


iUE    PILGRIM'S    PR0GRES8,  301 

but  old,  who  presented  herself  unto  me,  and  offered  me 
three  things  ;  to  wit,  her  body,  her  purse,  and  her  bed. 
Now  the  truth  is,  I  was  both  weary  and  sleepy  :  lam 
also  as  poor  as  an  owlet,  and  that  perhaps  the  witch 
knew.  Well,  I  repulsed  her  once  and  twice  ;  but  she 
put  by  my  repulses  and  smiled.  Then  1  began  to  be 
angry  ;  but  she  mattered  that  nothing  at  all  Then 
she  made  offers  again,  and  said,  If  I  would  be  ruled  by 
her,  she  would  make  me  great  and  happy;  for,  said 
she,  I  am  the  mistress  of  the  world,  and  men  are  made 
happy  by  me.  Then  I  asked  her  name,  and  she  told 
me  it  was  Madam  Bubble.  This  set  me  further  from 
her  ;  but  she  still  followed  me  with  enticements.  Then 
I  betook  me,  as  you  see,  to  my  knees,  and  with  hands 
lifted  up,  and  cries,  I  prayed  to  Him  that  had  said  he 
would  help.  So  just  as  you  came  up,  the  gentlewoman 
went  her  way.  Then  1  continued  to  give  thanks  for 
this  great  deliverance  ;  for  I  verily  believe  she  intend- 
ed no  good,  but  rather  sought  to  make  a  stop  ol  me  in 
my  journey. 

Hon.  Without  doubt  her  designs  were  bad.  But  stay, 
now  you  talk  of  her,  methinks  f  either  have  seen  her, 
or  have  read  some  story  of  her. 

Stand.  Perhaps  you  have  done  both. 
Hon.  Madam  Bubble  !    Is  she  not  a  tall,  comely 
dame,  something  of  a  swarthy  complexion  ? 

Stand.  Right,  you  hit  it,  she  is  just  such  an  one. 
Mon.  Doth  she  not  speak  very  smoothly,  and  give 
you  a  smile  at  the  end  of  every  sentence  ? 

Stand.  You  fall  right  upon  it  again,  for  these  are  her 
actions. 

.  Hon.  Doth  she  not  wear  a  great  purse  by  her  side  ? 
And  is  not  her  hand  often  in  it  fingering  her  money,  as 
if  that  was  her  heart's  delight  ? 

Stand.  'Tis  just  so :  had  she  stood  by  all  this  while, 
you  could  not  more  amply  have  set  her  forth  beiore 
me,  and  have  better  described  her  features. 

Hon.  Then  he  that  drew  her  picture  was  a  good  lim- 
ner, and  he  that  wrote  of  her  said  true. 

Qr.-h.  This  woman  is  a  witch  ;  and  it  is  by  virtue  of 
her  sorceries,  that  this  ground  is  enchanted  :  whoever 
doth  lay  their  head  down  in  hst  lap,  had  as  goo4  lay  ii 


#02  TBE   PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

down  upon  that  block  over  which  the  axe  doth  hang ; 
and  whoever  lays  their  eyes  upon  her  beauty,  are  coun- 
ted the  enemies  of  God.*     This  is  she  that  maintaineth 
in  their  splendor  all  those  that  are  the  enemies  of  pil- 
grims.     Yea,  this  is  she  that  hath  brought  off  many  a 
man  from  a  pilgrim's  life.     She  is  a  great  gossipper  ; 
t>he  is  always,  both  she  and  her  daughters,  at  one  pil- 
grim's heels  or  another,  now  commending,  and  then 
preferring  the  excellencies  of  this  life.     She  is  a  bold 
and  impudent  slut ;  she  will  talk  with  any  man.     She 
always  laughed  poor  pilgrims  to  scorn  ;    but  highly 
commends   the  rich.     Iftheie  be  one  cunning  to  get 
Money  in  a  place,  she  will  speak  well  of  him  from  house 
to  house  ;  she  loveth  banquetting  and  feasting  mainly 
well ;  she  is  always  at  one  full  table  or  another.     She 
has  given  it  out  in  some  places  that  she  is  a  goddess, 
and  therefore  some  do  worship  her.     She  has  her  time 
and  open  places  of  cheating  ;  and  she  will  say,  and  avow 
it,  that  none  can  show  a  good  comparable  to  her's.   She 
promiseth  to  dwell   with  children's  children,  if  they 
would  but  love  and  make  much  of  her.      She  will  cast 
out  her  purse  of  gold  like  dust,  in  some  places,  and  to 
some  persons.     She  loves  to  be  sought  after,  spoken 
well  of,  and  to  lie  in  the  bosoms  of  men.      She  is  never 
weary  of  commending  her  commodities,  and  she  Icves 
them  most  that  think  best  of  her.     She  will  promise 
crowns  and  kingdoms,  if  they  will  but  take  her  adfjee  : 
yet  many  hath  she  brought  to  the  halter,  and  ten  thous- 
and times  more  to  hell. 

Oh  !  said  Standfast,  what  a  mercy  it  is  that  I  did  re- 
sist her  !  for  whither  might  she  have  drawn  me  ? 

Gr.h.  Whither  !  nay,  none  but  God  knows.  But, 
in  general,  to  be  sure  she  would  have  drawn  thee  into 
"  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  man  in 
destruction  and  perdition."!  It  Was  she  that  set  Absa- 
lom against  his  father,  and  Jeroboam  against  his  mas- 
ter. It  was  she  that  persuaded  Judas  to  sell  his  Lord, 
and  that  prevailed  with  Demas  to  forsake  the  godly  pil- 
grim's life  :  none  can  tell  of  the  mischief  that  she  doth. 
She  makes  variance  betwixt  rulers  and  subjects,  be- 
twixt parents  and  children,  betwixt  neighbor  and  neigh- 

*  Prov,  x.  7.  f  1  Tina.  ?4,  9 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  303 

bar,  betwixt  a  man  and  his  wife,  between  a  man  and 
himself,  betwixt  the  flesh  and  the  spirit.  Wherefore, 
good  master  Standfast,  be  as  your  name  is ;  and  "  when 
you  have  done  all,  stand." 

At  this  discourse  there  was,  among  the  pilgrims,  a 
mixture  of  joy  and  trembling  i  but  at  length  they  braise 
out,  and  sang— 

4  What  danger  is  the  pilgrim  in  ! 

How  many  are  his  foes  ? 
How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin, 

No  living  mortal  knows. 
Some  in  the  ditch,  spoii'd  are,  yea  can 

tie  tumbling  in  the  mire  : 
Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan, 

Do  leap  into  the  fire.' 

After  this,  I  beheld,  until  they  were  come  unto  the 
land  of  Beulah,  where  the  sun  shineth  night  and  day. 
Here,  because  they  were  weary,  they  betook  themselves 
a  while  to  rest ;  and  because  this  country  was  common 
for  pilgrims,  and  because  these  orchards  and  vineyards 
that  were  here  belonged  to  the  King  of  the  celestial 
country,  therefore  they  were  licensed  to  make  bold  with 
any  of  h'13  things.  But  a  little  while  soon  refreshed 
them  here ;  for  the  bells  did  so  ring,  and  the  trumpets 
continually  sounding  so  melodiously,  that  they  could  not 
sleep :  and  yet  they  received  as  much  refreshing,  as  if 
they  slept  their  sleep  never  so  soundly.  Here  also  the 
noise  of  them  that  walked  in  the  streets,  was,  '  More 
pilgrims  are  come  to  town.'  And  another  would  an- 
swer, saying,  *  And  so  many  went  over  the  water  and 
were  let  in  at  the  golden  gates  to-day.*  They  would 
cry  again.  There  is  now  a  legion  of  shining  ones  just 
ge  to  town  :  by  which  we  know  that  there  are  more 
pilgrims  upon  the  road  ;  for  here  they  come  to  wait  for 
them,  and  comfort  them  after  their  sorrow.'  Then  the 
pilgrims  got  up,  and  walked  to  and  fro  :  but  how  were 
their  eyes  now  fdled  with  celestial  visions  !  In  this  land 
they  heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  smelt  nothing,  taste- 1 
nothing  that  was  offensive  to  their  stomach  or  mind ; 
only  when  they  tasted  of  the  water  of  the  river,  over 
which  they  were  to  go,  they  thought  that  it  tasted  a  lit* 


304  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

tie  bitterish  to  the  palate,  but  it  proved  sweet  when  it 
was  down. 

In  this  place  there  was  a  record  kept  of  the  names 
of  them  that  had  been  pilgrims  of  old,  and  a  history  of 
all  the  famous  acts  that  they  had  done.  It  was  here 
also  much  discoursed,  how  the  river  to  some  has  its 
Sowings  and  what  ebbings  it  has  had  while  others  have 
gone  over.  It  has  been  in  a  manner  dry  for  some, 
while  it  has  overflowed  its  banks  lor  others. 

In  this  place,  the  children  of  the  town  would  go  into 
the  King's  gardens,  and  gather  nosegays  for  the  pil- 
grims, and  bring  them  to  them  with  affection.  Here 
also  grew  camphire  and  spikenard,  saffron,  calamus, 
and  cinnamon,  with  all  the  trees  of  frankincense,  myrrh, 
antfaSccs,  with  all  chief  spices.  With  these  the  pil- 
grims' chambers  were  permmed  while  they  staid  here  ; 
and  with  these  were  their  bodies  anointed  to  prepare 
them  to  go  over  the  river,  when  the  time  appointed 
was  come. 

Now  while  they  lay  here,  and  waited  for  the  good 
hour,  there  was  a  noise  in  the  town,  and  there  was  a 
post  come  from  the  celestial  city,  with  matters  of  great 
importance  to  one  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Chiistian,  the 
pilgrim.  So  inquiry  was  made  for  her,  and  the  house 
was  found  out  where  she  was  :  so  the  post  presented 
her  with  a  letter  :  the  contents  were  :  '  Hail  good  wo- 
man !  I  bring  thee  tidings,  that  the  Master  calleth  for 
thee,  and  expecteth  that  thou  shouldst  stand  in  his  pre- 
sence in  clothes  of  immortality,  within  these  ten  days.' 

When  he  had  read  this  letter  to  her,  he  gave  her 
therewith  a  sure  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger, 
and  was  come  to  bid  her  make  haste  to  be  gone.  The 
token  was  an  arrow  sharpened  with  love,  let  easily  into 
her  heart,  which,  by  degrees,  wrought  so  effectually 
with  her,  that  at  the  time  appointed  she  must  be  gone. 

When  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come,  and 
that  she  was  the  first  of  this  company  that  was  to  go  o- 
ver,  she  called  for  Mr.  Great-heart,  her  guide,  and  told 
him  how  matters  were.  So  he  told  her,  he  was  heart- 
ily glad  of  the  news,  and  could  have  been  glad  had  the 
post  come  lor  him.  Then  she  bid  that  he  should 
give  advice  how  all  things  should  be  prepared  for  her 
journey.      So  he  told  her,  saying,  Thus  and  thus  it 


305 

must  be  ;  and  we  that  survive,  will  accompany  you  to 
the  river  side. 

Then  she  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them  her 
blessing  ;  and  told  them  tnat  she  had  read  with  comfort 
the  mark  that  was  set  in  their  foreheads,  and  was  glad 
to  see  them  with  her  there,  and  that  they  had  kept  their 
garments  so  white.  Lastly,  she  bequeathed  to  the  poor 
that  little  she  had,  and  commanded  her  sons  and  daugh- 
ters to  be  ready  against  the  messenger  should  come  for 
them. 

When  she  had  spoken  these  words  to  her  guide  and 
to  her  children,  she  called  for  Mr.  Valiant- for- truth, 
and  said  unto  him,  *  Sir,  you  have  in  all  places  showed 
yourself  true-hearted  ;  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  my 
King  will  give  you  a  crown  of  life.  I  would  also  entreat 
you  to  have  an  eye  to  my  children  ;  and  if  at  any  time 
you  see  them  faint,  speak  comfortably  to  them.  For 
my  daughters,  my  sons'  wives,  they  have  been  faithful, 
and  a  fulfilling  of  the  promise  upon  them  will  be  their 
end.' — But  she  gave  Mr.  Standfast  a  ring. 

Then  she  called  for  old  Mr.  Honest,  and  said  of  him, 
w  Behold  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile." 
Then  said  he, '  I  wish  you  a  fair  day,  when  you  set  out 
for  mount  Zion,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see  that  you  go  o- 
ver  the  river  dry-shod.'  But  she  answered,  *  Come 
wet,  come  dry,  I  long  to  be  gone,  for,  however  the  wea- 
ther is  in  my  journey,  I  shall  have  time  enough,  when 
I  come  there,  to  sit  down  and  rest  me,  and  dry  me.* 

Then  came  in  that  good  man  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  to 
see  her.  So  she  said  to  him,  *  Thy  travel  hitherto  has 
been  with  difficulty  ;  but  that  will  make  thy  rest  the 
sweeter.  But  watch  and  be  ready  ;  for  at  an  hour  when 
you  think  not,  the  messenger  may  come.' 

After  him  came  in  Mr.  Despondency,  and  his  daugh- 
ter Much- afraid  ;  to  whom  she  said,  *  You  ought,  with 
thankfulness,  for  ever  to  remeirber  your  deliverance 
from  the  hand  of  giant  Despair,  and  out  of  Doubting 
Castle.  The  effect  of  that  mercy  is  that  you  are  brought 
with  safety  hither.  Be  yet  watchful,  and  cast  away  fear, 
be  sober  and  hope  to  the  end.' 

Then  she  said  to   Mr.  Feeble-mind,  *  Thou  wast 
delivered  from  the  mouth  of  giant  Slay-good,  that  thou 
Bb3 


806  the  pilgrim's  progress, 

mightest  live  in  the  light  of  the  living  for  ever,  and  see 
the  King  with  comfort :  only  I  advise  thee  to  repent 
thee  of  thy  aptness  to  fear,  and  doubt  of  his  goodness, 
before  he  sends  for  thee  ;  lest  thou  shouldst,  when  he 
comes,  be  forced  to  stand  before  him,  for  the  fault,  with 
blushing.* 

Now  the  day  drew  on,  that  Christiana  must  be  gone. 
So  the  road  was  full  of  people,  to  see  her  take  her  jour- 
ney. But,  behold,  all  the  banks  beyond  the  river  were 
full  of  horses  and  chariots,  which  were  come  down  from 
above  to  accompany  her  to  the  city  gate.  So  she  came 
forth,  and  entered  the  riveiS  with  a  beckon  of  farewell 
to  those  that  followed  her  to  the  river  side.  The  last 
words  that  she  was  heard  to  say,  were,  *  I  come,  Lord, 
to  be  with  thee,  and  bless  thee.' 

So  her  children  and  friends  returned  to  their  place, 
for  that  those  that  waited  for  Christiana  had  carried  her 
out  of  their  sight.  So  she  went  and  called,  and  entered 
in  at  the  gate,  with  all  the  ceremonies  of  joy  that  her 
husband  Christian  had  entered  with  before  her. 

At  her  departure,  the  children  wept.  But  Mr.  Great- 
heart  and  Mr.  Valiant  played  upon  the  well-tuned  cym- 
bal and  harp  for  joy.  So  all  departed  to  their  respect- 
ive places. 

In  process  of  time,  there  came  a  post  to  the  town  a- 
gaih,  and  his  business  was  with  Mr.  Ready-to-halt.  So 
he  inquired  him  out,  and  said,  4 1  am  come  to  thee  in 
the  name  of  him  whom  thou  hast  loved  and  followed, 
though  upon  crutches  :  and  my  message  is,  to  tell  thee, 
that  he  expects  thee  at  his  table,  to  sup  with  him  in 
to  kingdom,  the  next  day  after  Easter  :  wherefore 
prepare  thyself  for  thy  journey .^Then  he  also  gave 
him  a  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  saying,  "  I 
have  broken  the  golden  bowl,  and  loosed  the  silver 
cord."* 

After  this  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  called  for  his  fellow- 
pilgrims,  and  \old  them,  saying,  *  I  am  sent  for,  and 
God  shall  surely  visit  you  also/  So  he  desired  Mr. 
Valiant  to  make  his  will ;  and  because  he  had  nothing 
to  bequeath  to  them  that  should  survive  him,  but  his 
crutches  and  his  good  wishes,  therefore  thus  he  said  : 
4  Tfcae  cratches  I  bequeath  to  my  son  that  shall  tread 

*Ecclet.xii.l— 7. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  307 

in  my  steps,  with  an  hundred  warm  wishes,  that  he  may 
prove  better  than  I  have  been.' 

Then  he  thanked  Mr.  Great-heart  for  his  conduct 
and  kindness,  and  so  addressed  himself  to  his  louniey. 
■ — When  he  came  to  the  brink  of  the  river,  he  said, 
*  Now  I  shall  have  no  more  need  of  these  crutches, 
since  yonder  are  chariots  and  horses,  for  me  to  ride  on.' 
The  last  words  lie  was  heard  to  say,  were  '  Welcome 
life  !  So  he  went  his  way. 

After  this,  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had  tidings  brought  him, 
that  the  post  sounded  his  horn  at  his  chamber  door. 
Then  he  came  in,  and  told  him,  saying,  4 1  am  come  to 
tell  thee,  that  my  master  has  need  of  thee  ;  and  that  in 
a  very  little  time  thou  must  behold  his  face  in  bright- 
ness. And  take  this  as  a  token  of  the  truth  of  my  mes- 
sage :  "  Those  that  look  out  at  the  windows  shall  be 
darkened." 

Then  Mr.  Feeble-mind  called  for  his  friends,  and  told 
them  what  errand  had  been  brought  unto  him,  and  what 
token  he  hsd  received  of  the  truth  cf  the  message. 
Then  he  said,  '  Since  I  have  nothing  to  bequeath  to  a- 
ny,  to  what  purpose  should  1  make  a  will  ?  As  fcr  my 
feeble  mind  that  I  will  leave  behind,  for  that  1  have  no 
need  of  it  in  the  place  whither  I  must  go;  nor  is  it 
worth  bestowing  upon  the  poorest  pilgrims  :  where- 
fore, when  I  am  gone,  L  desire  that  you,  Mr.  Valiant, 
would  bury  it  in  the  dung-hill/  This  done,  and  the  day 
being  come  in  which  he  was  to  depart,  he  entered  the 
river  as  the  rest :  his  last  words  were,  4  Hold  cut,  faith 
and  patience.'    So  he  went  over  to  the  other  side. 

When  days  had  many  of  them  passed  away,  Mr.  Des- 
pondency was  sent  for  ;  for  a  post  was  come,  and 
brought  this  message  to  him  :  '  Trembling  man,  these 
are  to  summon  thee  to  be  ready  with  the  King  by  the 
next  Lord's  day,  to  shout  for  joy,  tor  thy  deliverance 
from  all  thy  doubtings. — And,'  said  the  messenger, 
*  that  my  message  is  true,  take  this  fcr  a  proof:'  so  he 
gave  a  "  grass-hopper  to  be  a  burden  unto  him.'" — 
Now  Mr.  Despondency's  daughter,  whose  name  was 
Much-afraid,  said,  when  she  had  heard  what  was  done, 
that  she  should  go  with  her  father.  Then  Mr.  Des- 
pondency said  to  his  friends,  4  Myself  and  my  daughter, 
you  know  what  we  bare  been,  and  how  troublesomely 


308  the  pilgrim's  progress. 

we  have  behaved  ourselves  in  every  company  ;-~my 
will,  and  my  daughter's  is,  that  our  desponds  and  sla- 
vish fears  be  by  no  man  ever  received,  from  the  day  of 
cur  departure,  for  ever  :  for  I  know  that  after  my 
death,  they  will  offer  themselves  to  others.  For,  to  be 
plain  with  you,  they  are  guests  which  we  entertained 
when  we  first  began  to  be  pilgrims,  and  could  never 
shake  them  off  after  :  and  they  will  walk  about  and  seek 
entertainment  oi  the  pilgrims  ;  but,  for  our  sakes  shut 
the  door  upon  them. 

When  the  time  was  come  for  them  to  depart,  they 
went  up  to  the  brink  of  the  river.  *  The  last  words  of 
Mr.  Despondency  were,  4  Farewell,  night  !   Welcome, 

day  ! His  daughter  went  througn  tne  river  singing, 

but  none  could  understand  what  she  said. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  awhile  after,  that  there  was  a 
post  in  the  town,  that  enquired  for  Mr.  Honest.  So 
he  came  to  his  house,  where  he  was,  and  delivered  to 
his  hands  these  lines  :  i  Thou  art  commanded  to  be  rea- 
dy against  this  day  se'nnigrt,  to  present  thyself  before 
thy  Lord,  at  his  Father's  house.'  And,  for  a  token  that 
my  message  is  true,  "  All  the  daughters  of  music  shall 
be  brought  low." — Then  Mr.  Honest  called  for  his 
friends,  and  said  unto  them,  '  I  die,  but  shall  make  no 
will.  As  for  my  honesty,  it  shall  go  with  me  ;  let  him 
that  comes  after  be  told  of  this. 

When  the  day  that  he  was  to  be  gone  was  come,  he 
addressed  himself  to  go  over  the  river.  Now  the  ri- 
ver at  that  time  overflowed  the  banks  in  some  places  ; 
but  Mr.  Honest  in  his  lifetime,  had  spoken  to  one 
Good-conscience  to  meet  him  there  :  the  which  he  also 
did,  and  lent  him  his  hand,  and  so  helped  him  over. 
The  last  words  of  Mr.  Honest  were,  "  Grace  reigns!** 
So  he  left  the  world. 

After  this,  it  was  noised  about  that  Mr.  Valiant-for- 
truth  was  taken  with  a  summons  by  the  same  post  as  the 
other  ;  and  had  this  for  a  token,  that  the  summons  was 
true,  that  "  his  pitcher  was  broken  at  the  fountain." 
When  he  understood  it,  he  called  for  his  friends,  and 
told  them  of  it.  Then  said  he,  <  I  am  going  to  my 
Father's ;  and  though  with  great  difficulty  I  got  hither, 
yet  now  I  do  not  repent  me  of  all  the  trouble  I  have 
been^at  to  arrive  where  I  am.    My  sword  1  give  to  him 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS.  309 

that  shall  succeed  me  in  my  pilgrimage,  and  my  cour- 
age and  skill  to  him  that  can  get  it.  My  marks  and 
scars  I  carry  with  me,  to  be  a  witness  tor  me,  that  I 
have  fought  his  battles,  who  now  will  be  my  rewar- 
ded— 

When  the  day  that  he  must  go  hence  was  come,  ma- 
ny accompanied  him  to  the  river  side,  into  which  as  he 
went,  he  said,  "  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  V  and  as 
he  went  down  deeper,  he  said,  "  Grave  where  is  thy 
victory  V  So  he  passed  overhand  all  the  trumpets  soun- 
ded for  him  on  the  other  side. 

Then  there  came  forth  a  summons  for  Mr.  Standfast. 
This  Mr.  Standfast  was  he  that  the  pilgrims  found  up- 
on his  knees  in  the  Enchanted  Ground,  and  the  post 
brought  it  him  open  in  his  hands  :  the  contents  where- 
of were,  that  he  must  prepare  for  a  change  of  life,  for 
his  Master  was  not  willing  that  he  should  be  so  far 
from  him  any  longer.  At  this  Mr-  Standfast  was  put 
into  a  muse.  *  Nay,'  said  the  messenger,  '  you  need 
not  doubt  of  the  truth  of  my  message  ;  for  here  is  a  to- 
ken of  the  truth  thereof, — "  Thy  wheel  is  broken  at 
the  cistern."  Then  he  called  to  him  Mr.  Great-heart, 
who  was  their  guide,  and  said  unto  him,  '  Sir,  although 
it  was  not  my  hap  to  be  much  in  your  good  company 
in  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage,  yet,  since  the  time  I  knew 
you,  you  have  been  profitable  to  me.  When  I  came 
from  home,  I  left  behind  me  a  wife  and  five  small  chil- 
dren f  let  me  entreat  you,  at  your  return  (for  I  know 
that  you  go  and  return  to  your  Master's  house,  in  hopes 
that  you  may  be  a  conductor  to  more  of  bis  holy  pil- 
grims) that  you  send  to  my  family,  and  let  them  be  ac- 
quainted with  all  that  hath  and  shall  happen  unto  me. 
Tell  them,  moreover,  of  my  happy  arrival  at  this  place, 
and  of  the  present  and  late  blessed  condition  that  I  am 
in.  Tell  them  also  of  Ch?  istian  and  Christiana  his  wife, 
and  how  she  and  her  children  came  after  her  husband. 
Tell  them  also  of  what  a  happy  end  she  made,  and 
whither  she  "is  gone. — I  have  little  or  nothing  to  send 
to  my  family,  except  it  be  my  prayers  and  tears  for 
them  :  of  which  it  will  suffice  if  you  acquaint  them,  if 
peradventure  they  may  prevail.' 

When  Mr.-Standfast  had  thus  set  things  in  order, 
and  the  time  being  come  for  him  to  haste  away,  he  also 


310 


THE    PILGRIM  S    PROGRESS. 


went  down  to  the  river.  Now  there  was  a  great  calm 
at  that  time  in  the  river ;  wherefore  Mr.  Standfast,  when 
he  was  about  halfway  in,  stood  a  while  and  talked  to 
his  companions  that  had  waited  upon  him  thither  ;  and 
he  said,  '  This  river  has  been  a  terror  to  many  :  yea, 
the  thoughts  of  it  also  often  have  frightened  me  :  now, 
methinks,  I  stand  easy  ;  my  foot  is  fixed  upon  that  on 
which  the  feet  of  the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  of  the  co- 
venant stood,  while  Israel  went  over  this  Jordan.*  The 
waters,  indeed,  are  to  the  palate  bitter,  and  to  the  stom- 
ach cold  ;  yet  the  thoughts  of  what  I  am  going  to,  and 
of  the  conduct  that  waits  me  on  the  other  side,  doth  lie 
as  a  glowing  coal  at  my  heart.  I  see  myself  now  at  the 
end  of  my  journey:  my  toilsome  days  are  ended.  I 
am  going  to  see  that  head  that  was  crowned  with 
thorns,  and  that  face  that  was  spit  upon  for  me.  1  have 
formerly  lived  by  hearsay  and  faith  :  but  now  I  go 
where  I  shall  live  by  sight,  and  shall  be  with  him  in 
whose  company  I  delight  myself.  I  have  loved  to  hear 
my  lord  spoken  of ;  and  wherever  I  have  seen  the  print 
of  his  shoe  in  the  earth,  there  I  have  coveted  to  set  my 
foot  too.  His  name  has  been  to  me  as  a  civet  box :  yea, 
sweeter  than  all  perfumes.  His  voice  to  me  has  been 
most  sweet ;  and  his  countenance  I  have  more  desired 
than  they  that  have  most  desired  the  light  of  the  sun. 
His  words  I  did  use  to  gather  for  my  food,  and  for  an- 
tidotes against  my  faintings.  He  has  held  me,  and  hath 
kept  me  from  mine  iniquities ;  yea,  my  steps  have  been 
strengthened  in  his  way.' 

Now,  while  he  was  thus  in  his  discourse,  his  counte- 
nance changed  ;  his  strong  man  bowed  under  him  :" 
and,  after  he  had  said, '  Take  me,  for  1  co  « ■  ;  unto  thee,1 
he  ceased  to  be  seen  of  them. 

But  glorious  it  was  to  see,  how  the  open  region  was 
filled  with  horses  and  chariots,  with  trumpeters,  and  pi- 
pers, with  singers  and  players  on  stringed  instruments, 
to  wel- om?  the  pilgrims  as  they  went  up,  and  followed 
one  another  in  at  the  beautiful  gate  of  the  city. 

As  for  Christiana's  children,  the  four  boys  that  Chris- 
tiana brought,  with  their  wives  and  children,  I  did  not 
stay  where  I  was  till  they  were  gone  over.     Also,  since 

*Josb.iii.  17. 


311 

I  came  away,  I  heard  one  say,  they  were  yet  alive,  and 
so  would  be  for  the  increase  of  the  church  in  that  place 
where  they  were,  for  a  time. 

Shall  it  be  my  lot  to  go  that  way  again,  I  may  give 
those  that  desire  it,  an  account  of  what  I  here  am  silent 
about  ;  mean  time  I  bid  my  reader 

FAREWEIT 


FINIS, 


. 


■ 


£3&S3r 


